<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Every Story is a Love Story by soothe_the_beast</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28121094">Every Story is a Love Story</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/soothe_the_beast/pseuds/soothe_the_beast'>soothe_the_beast</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Aida - John/Rice/Woolverton &amp; Falls &amp; Hwang, The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A little bit love at first sight, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Love, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Sexual Slavery, Not historically accurate in the least, Pining, This is a love story, a little definitely not, alternative universe, but plausible, not immortals, warring families</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:00:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28121094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/soothe_the_beast/pseuds/soothe_the_beast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an Aida AU, starring Joe and Nicky. </p><p>If you don’t know the story, you should check it out. It is a much better version of Romeo and Juliet, far more complex, and far more beautiful.</p><p>I based this story heavily on the Broadway play, which was based heavily on the Verdi opera, which was based on the story by Auguste Mariette, which was supposedly based on a true story found on a papyrus.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hesitated and struggled and hesitated some more about sharing this story. Slavery is a fairly major plot point, and I didn’t want to come off as glorifying or minimizing it in any way, shape, or form. I have done my best to portray it as sensitively as I can, taking great pains not to mar anyone’s image of Nicky, while also not necessarily making him a perfect savior either. If this kind of thing is not for you, I understand. But I have sincerely adored Aida for many many years, and I think it lends itself nicely to some of the themes that are often touched on with Joe and Nicky’s back story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He arrived at the beach, just in time to see the tiniest sliver of gold peek itself over the horizon. All at once, the water glistened with sparkles of light ahead. Along the shore trees stretched their palms into the warmth of the sunbeams. Behind him, the city came to light, reflecting the azure and violet hues of the clouds, through which the sun was piercing as it rose higher by the second. </p><p>Yusuf flexed his bare toes down into the damp sand, his sandals abandoned far behind him. He breathed in, deep and slow, allowing the salt of the air to linger inside his lungs for an extended moment before letting it all back out. There were few things in the world more healing than the sensations of the sea. Yusuf sighed inwardly. He had slept too late this morning. As the sun rose even higher he knew he would need to hurry back before anyone noticed him gone. These mornings to himself had become a risky habit, he knew, but they were worth it for just a quiet moment away. Some days, not often, but some days he imagined himself getting on a ship and sailing into that horizon. Seeing where the wind took him. Daring not to look back. </p><p>Not far from him sat another man whom Yusuf had not seen, resting just out of sight in the shadows of the trees, perched on a rock. He had been sharpening the blade of his long sword, but had stopped when he noticed Yusuf arrive at the beach. Nicolò watched the man stand along the shoreline, his feet flirting with the water, as the waves ebbed and flowed. He was dressed in humble attire of the land, possibly intended for sleeping in, though he carried a saber, a saif by the looks of the sheathe. Whoever he was, his status as an enemy was heavily reliant on whether or not he remained ignorant of Nicolò’s presence. And since Nicolò had no desire for a duel on this beautiful morning, he decided he would be no danger to the man, and therefore the man would be no danger to him. Thus, remaining still and quiet, he merely watched. </p><p>He watched as the man rolled up the bottoms of his trousers and waded further into the water. He watched while he reached below the surface, procuring some small stones and gracefully skipped them along the surf, the sun beyond him encircling his head like a halo. He watched as after only a short time, the man walked back onto the beach. He watched him crouch briefly a few meters back from the water, glancing up at the sky and then gently moving a handful of sand into a heap away from where he crouched. Several minutes passed, and the man seemed to be observing something small and slow make its way to the water. A few more minutes, and after standing to his full height, he cast one glance up at the sky and another back at the water before disappearing into the nearby city. </p><p>As the sun cast more and more light on the area, Nicolò sheathed his newly edged sword and brought himself to his feet. He meandered along the beach for a few minutes before deciding it was time to return to his fleet to the North. Before leaving this particular beach, however, he stopped in curiosity at the spot where the man had stood. He followed a trail in the sand back to a small sunken area, filled with several pearl colored eggs that were speckled with beach sand and broken open. He cast a quick glance at the seagulls flying overhead, and then stole himself a small smile.</p><p>He took the long way to reach his port. Rather than traveling through the enemy city, he kept to the shore and trudged for more than an hour around the horn of Cap Afrique. </p><p>Yusuf walked with purpose toward his destination, uneager to deal with the ramifications of his daily excursions being discovered. Just prior to reaching the palace walls, he could hear a ways off behind him the sounds of a scuffle. Of women struggling, and men snickering and yelling in a foreign tongue. The Genoese were here. Yusuf unsheathed his saber and followed the sounds back to the beach. From the shadows of village buildings, Yusuf could see several women being rounded up by members of the Genoese Navy. An officer, looked on pleased as a sailor shoved one of the women so hard she fell to her knees in the sand, while another worked to load as many of them into the tender boat that would carry them to the larger vessel offshore. Yusuf had little time to debate the plan forming in his head. He knew his odds were not great (three to one), and he knew the wrath of what would befall him for taking such a foolhardy risk, even if he were completely successful. But these were his people. And these sorry excuses for men were not going to get away with taking them from their home so easily. </p><p>As swiftly and stealthily as he could, he approached the sailors, saber drawn, immediately attacking the man who had thrown his captive to the ground. Making use of the element of surprise, he was able to get in a good blow, drawing blood from the man’s shoulder, effectively wounding his swinging arm. The other man joined the fray as the officer, an admiral, took late notice of fight.</p><p>To the south on the shore, Nicolò had rounded a corner just in time to witness Yusuf’s audacious skill. He approached the scene quietly as the lone man bested his countrymen with finesse. He was staving off both the officer and the young sailor as a handful of others were approaching the shore in another dinghy. Nicolò shifted himself behind a large bolder on the beach and watched the captivating Mahdian man effectively send the admiral to his backside with one well-timed kick and disarming the second man before positioning himself behind the young man and lifting his blade to his throat. </p><p>The admiral and his wounded sailor both stood slowly. </p><p>“You will let these women go,” Yusuf demanded. </p><p>“And what will you give me in return?” the admiral asked arrogantly as the group of sailors jumped out of the boat, sprinting to his side. </p><p>“In return?” Yusuf repeated the man in disgust. “The life of your man spared.”</p><p>Nicolò watched the admiral carefully. He knew the man too well. This was a threat the Mahdian man had better be prepared to follow through with, or else his life was in imminent danger. </p><p>“I have thirty men to take his place on my ship, and three thousand more waiting in Genoa,” the admiral countered calmly, just as Nicolò expected he would. One sailor was most certainly worth the price of bringing nearly a dozen healthy and strong new servants to the palace, as far as the admiral would be concerned. “Go ahead and kill him.” </p><p>Nicolò had stepped out of the shadow of the rock faster than he could fully processing the Maghrebi man’s hesitation. He did not have the luxury of hesitation himself, or he’d have to bear watching the gruesome killing of one man against nine. Deftly he positioned himself behind the man, arm outstretched, placing his own sword tip to the side of his neck.</p><p>“<em>I</em> would rather you didn’t to be honest,” Nicolò said calmly. Four sailors moved closer to Nicolò and his captive, and his captive’s captive, swords aloft. </p><p>Yusuf did not turn. He knew there were only two ways out of this, dropping his weapon or death. He opted for the former. The young sailor scrambled away towards his crew, retrievieving his own weapon from the sand. </p><p>“Kill him,” the admiral commanded without emotion. <br/>
 <br/>
“If I may, Admiral Lombardi,” Nicolò said quickly, halting the sailors mid lunge. “This man is an impressive fighter. Much more talented than most of your men.”</p><p>Nicolò did not add that he was certainly more skilled than the Admiral himself. </p><p>“Perhaps you ought to enlist him,” he suggested to the officer in a roguish manner.</p><p>Admiral Lombardi sneered slightly at the idea, but Nicolò could tell there was a part of him trying to decide if it could ever work. </p><p>“He does have spirit, I’ll grant you,” The admiral spoke to Nicolò rather than to the Mahdian man directly. He stepped closer, sticking his face threateningly close the African man’s. “Perhaps I <em>should</em> enlist him. He could be lieutenant.” </p><p>“A treacherous decision that would be for you,” Yusuf responded. He kept his gaze forward, but Nicolò suspected he was speaking to both of them. </p><p>“You would betray me?” The admiral asked, sticking his face threateningly close to the Mahdian man’s, who responded with an aggressive head butt. The admiral staggered back slightly, and Nicolò thrust his sword under the man’s chin in turn. </p><p>“I am already your enemy,” Yusuf spoke fiercely. “Betrayal would be to fight with you against my people.” </p><p>“Indeed,” the admiral responded, rubbing his forehead. “Then I suppose you leave us no choice than to kill you.” </p><p>“Perhaps there is another use for him,” Nicolò suggested. “This man has proven quite valiant. If I may point out, as he did best you and your sailors, it would be honorable to grant him his demand and let the women go. It seems to me the palace has all the ladies in waiting it could use at present. But the king is in need of a new manservant, is he not?” </p><p>“This man would kill the king first chance he got,” the admiral argued.</p><p>“Of course he wouldn’t. He is an honorable man.” Nicolò countered. He slowly stepped around the Mahdian man, sword still pointing directly at his throat, until the two were face to face. He looked directly into the man’s eyes for the first time. Dark, intense pools of umber gazed back. “Surely caring for a sickly old man would not be betrayal?” </p><p>Yusuf watched this strange foreigner carefully, not quite sure what to make of him. He spoke slowly.</p><p>“You will let these women go,” he questioned him in the form of a demand. </p><p>“I have said so,” Nicolò agreed. </p><p>“My lord Nicolò...” the admiral argued. </p><p>“I have said so,” he repeated firmly. He sheathed his sword and waved his hand in the air at the group of soldiers standing nearest the two tender boats. The men ushered the women off the boat. </p><p>Yusuf watched as the women scampered back up the beach into the city. He breathed out a sigh, half in relief, half in utter dismay. </p><p>“Bind his hands,” the admiral commanded to his men. “Get him on the ship.”</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p><br/>
Nicolò stepped onto the docks in Genoa. The journey from Madhia took only three days, but he had not set foot in his country in well over a month. It had been a good stretch. As comforting as it was to sleep in the silk sheets of the palace, to be waited on hand and foot, to dine on the finest foods and wines in the land, none of it could compare with the adventure that awaited him out in the world, with the pull of the unknown of some far and distant new land. That was the life that had always called to him. </p><p>He was greeted on the docks by the admiral from a different ship, which had also just made port. </p><p>“Nicolò, my boy.”</p><p>“Father,” Nicolò said, embracing the older man. “How did you fare in Turkey?”</p><p>“It was quite the successful campaign,” he informed his son. “How was Africa?”</p><p>“We have returned with many riches.” Nicolò said. He followed his father’s gaze to the soldier ushering Nicolò’s captive off the ship. “Ah, yes. And a new manservant for the king.”</p><p>“The king hardly has use for a manservant these days,” his father replied. “You ought to keep him for yourself.”</p><p>“I have no need for a servant,” Nicolò insisted as the Mahdian man was brought to his side. </p><p>“You will need one more than a dead man will,” Nicolò’s father said meaningfully. </p><p>“I have no need because I will be off again tomorrow,” Nicolò explained. </p><p>“No, you won’t,” his father countered. “You must stay. The king is dying, Nicolò. Your wedding is at hand, and your place is here now.” </p><p>Nicolò frowned slightly. His father turned back to his own ship to oversee the unloading of cargo. </p><p>Nicolò made eye contact with the newcomer. </p><p>“Come with me,” he said. </p><p>He led Yusuf along the docks into the Ligurian city to the Palazzo Reale. Yusuf looked around the city, which appeared cold and gray to his eyes, so used to the vibrant colors and comforting sunshine of Mahdia. To think, he had fantasized, if only for a moment, that he might sail away and never return. This was certainly not the scenario he had in mind. 

Inside the palace walls, Nicolò led him to the servant’s quarters, stopping just outside the kitchens where he asked one of the cooks to find the steward of the palace. When the boy disappeared down the corridor, Nicolò reached out for the newcomer’s hands. Yusuf retracted them instinctively. </p><p>“Do you not want me to remove your binds?” Nicolò asked sincerely. The other man unclenchd his shoulders slightly, and Nicolo untied the ropes around his hands. </p><p>“Don’t worry,” he spoke in a facetious tone. “If you try to escape, we <em>will</em> come after you.”</p><p>“I did not take you for the kind who chases after men,” Yusuf responded provokingly. </p><p>Nicolò looked up at the man, sharply, almost smirking at his audaciousness. He paused momentarily, but when he spoke, he did so firmly and with authority.</p><p>“You will do well to remember that were it not for me, you would be dead right now.” </p><p>“A greater kindness would have been to let them kill me,” came Yusuf’s defiant answer. </p><p>Nicolò’s eyes narrows slightly as he paused briefly. </p><p>“Like you let the seagulls kill that latent turtle hatchling?”</p><p>Yusuf was taken aback, but he held his contentious gaze. </p><p>“…I am not a hatchling.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>At this moment, the palace steward arrived, and Nicolò wordlessly watched as the man was ushered away to learn the duties of his new life here in Genoa. </p><p>He was certainly not a hatchling. Nicolò would have argued that this man, strong and healthy and very much in his prime, had much more to offer than a sickly animal. His death on the beach that day would have ended his story right then and there. Regardless of what the man said, Nicolò knew alive had to be better than dead. And as long as his heart still beat, captive or not, his story was still unwritten. Who knew what might happen? </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As was tradition, a celebratory feast took place that evening to welcome home the Genoan fleet. Nicolò dressed in his finest palace attire in preparation for the reunion with his bride to be, the princess Amara. As he expected she would, the princess leapt into his arms when he rounded the corridor corner to meet her just outside the grand banquet hall. </p><p>“Nicolò!” A bundle of turquoise silk and chestnut hair obscured his vision momentarily, but as he brought a hand to the back of her head to smooth her long locks, he smiled wholeheartedly at her ready affection. </p><p>“Hello, Caramia,” he said warmly.  </p><p>“Nicolò,” she repeated seriously as she stepped back and looked up at him with a pout. Her handmaiden, Nuri, stood quiet at her side. “You have been away far too long this time.” </p><p>“I am sorry, my love,” he lamented. “It is a curse that my duty calls me so far away and for such lengthy intervals.”</p><p>This was not entirely accurate. It was not a curse to him. In fact he considered it his greatest blessing. He did not wish to make the princess so forlorn in his absence, but neither could he deny the hunger for the open sea, for the great wild unknown.</p><p>“I long for the day that your duty keeps you put,” she responded wistfully, “and here with me.” </p><p>Nicolò forced a smile and nodded curtly.</p><p>“We should not keep my father waiting,” Princess Amara said to him as she looped her arm through his. “He has been retiring earlier and earlier these days.” </p><p>A booming voice announced their arrival as they stepped into the hall together with Nuri following close behind. </p><p>“Her royal highness, Princess Amara Serafina Rosanna Alessi, daughter of King Uberto Federico Alessi, and her betrothed, Lord Nicolò di Genova.”</p><p>Every occupant in the hall came to a stand, save one, the crowned man sitting directly across from them at the head of the table. Those on the perimeter of the room were already on their feet, but they stood at full attention to the sum of their heights at the announcement of Nicolò and the princess.  Amara beamed at her father. Nicolò took brief note of the man standing in the far corner of the room, newly dressed in the uniform of the palace attendants. </p><p>Those cutting eyes of the king’s new manservant met Nicolo’s briefly as he was walking along the length of the table, ushering his bride to her seat. Yusuf stood directly behind her against the wall. Nicolò sat directly opposite from Amara. His father was beside him. </p><p>“It is wonderful to have you all back,” King Uberto muttered in weakened voice that Yusuf suspected had once been able to fill this room with ease. </p><p>He had been introduced to the king mere minutes before having to assist him in dressing for dinner. He’d silently performed his duties while the king sat quietly on the edge of his bed, clearly fatigued by just that feat. He pushed him to the banquet hall in a chair on wheels, which now sat at the head of the table. That was what little interaction he’d had with the man up to this point. He was quickly ordered to stand in this place and wait for further instructions from the steward. The princess’s handmaiden had taken position directly beside him, and while he listened to the conversation spoken by his country’s enemies taking place at the table, he couldn’t help but feel her eyes shifting to him repeatedly, if only for the briefest moments in time. </p><p>“It seemed they were ready for us this time,” Admiral Lombardi was explaining to the king of his excursion to Mahdia. “We were forced to drop anchor much further North than we typically do, and much further from shore in order to avoid an ambush.” </p><p>As the bottles of wine were uncorked, the steward signaled to the attendants to commence serving around the table. A bottle was abruptly shoved into Yusuf’s hands. He quirked an eyebrow, looking down at the label. The handmaiden gave him a pointed look as she made her way to the table with her own bottle. He followed. </p><p>“That is why you must attack with greater force next time,” Nicolò’s father wagered. “Like we have done against the Turks, and with great success.”</p><p>“Indeed, I have found that our objective is typically met when force is applied most stringently,” the king added. “Do you agree, daughter?” </p><p>The princess turned her head from her glass just as Nuri had finished her pour. She appeared taken aback to be asked her opinion on such matters.  </p><p>“If that is what you think, father,” was her reply. </p><p>The king gave his daughter a tired look over before addressing Nicolò next. </p><p>“And you, Lord Nicolò?”</p><p>“Well…” Nicolò started, “far be it for me to dispute the collective century of tried and true military experience in this room.”</p><p>There was a chorus of chuckles after Nicolò’s comment.</p><p>“I do think though,” he continued, looking directly at the king and not the two admirals, “…that the people of Mahdia are not nearly as primitive as some would believe them to be.”</p><p>The king looked at Nicolò thoughtfully. Nicolò shifted his eyes to the hands that were pouring his wine, knowing they belonged to the Madhian man he’d brought to the palace. </p><p>“They are cunning, and they are capable.” Nicolò attested, shifting an eye to the side, sensing the man walk away. “And I dare say sophisticated. They should not be underestimated in battle, that is certainly the case. But one has to wonder what might happen if force were not our principle means of communicating.”</p><p>“You propose an alliance?” The king asked with placating smirk. Nicolò could feel his father glaring at him from the side. </p><p>“Not as such,” Nicolò admitted humbly to the king. “Only that I wonder with the highest fascination all that could be achieved with one.” </p><p>The king’s new manservant was at his side now, pouring wine into his glass. Nicolò stole a glance at the Mahdian man. The expression that returned his way was pensive. </p><p>“An intriguing idea,” the king said, looking rather thoughtful himself. “But alas, I am afraid a peace such as the one you speak of is unobtainable.” </p><p>Yusuf watched Nicolò. The European man did not respond to this declaration, but only quirked the side of his mouth and looked down thoughtfully.  Across the table from him, the princess had her eyes on her father, and looked as equally lost in thought as her husband to be. </p><p>The steward signaled for the attendants to go into the kitchens to retrieve the food, so Yusuf followed the others through the doorway farthest from the windows behind the princess. In the kitchen, the cook staff were bustling around putting the finishing touches on plates and plates of luscious foods, from pheasant and duck to carrots and potatoes, and various plates of cheeses. </p><p>Yusuf took hold of a platter of carved version when he noticed the princess’s handmaiden watching him yet again. He took her arm as she attempted to walk past him. </p><p>“Why do you keep staring at me?” He asked her firmly. </p><p>The woman looked up toward him with an alarmed and apologetic expression, but she did not meet his eyes.</p><p>“Forgive me” She spoke in a hushed tone. “It is strange to see you dressed as a servant.”</p><p>Yusuf blinked at her, but he kept his expression blank.</p><p>“A man like you should only be adorned in the finest silks,” Nuri continued sadly. </p><p>Yusuf tilted his head to the side slightly. “A man like me?”</p><p>“…Royalty.” </p><p>Yusuf’s face hardened. </p><p>“I am not royalty,” he insisted. </p><p>“But you are,” she insisted back, this time looking him directly in the eye. “I know you, Prince Yusuf. I saw you once as a child, when my father came to seek assistance from the king. I know you.”</p><p>“No you do not,” Yusuf responded quickly through a forceful whisper. “You do not know me. I am merely a servant. Do not say that name in this place again or you will most certainly bring forth my execution. Do you understand?”</p><p>“It is you then.” Nuri stared at Yusuf with blind adoration. </p><p>“Do you understand?” He repeated more firmly. </p><p>“Yes,” she answered breathlessly. </p><p>He eased his expression slightly, and let go of her arm, realizing he had been holding it far too long. </p><p>He was vaguely aware of the steward shouting at them, imploring them to quicken their pace back into the banquet hall to serve the food. Yusuf straightened his back to his full height and disappeared through the door. Nuri followed at his heels. </p><p>As they lay the platters out on the table, the king cleared his throat and pushed the wheeled chair back a ways. Laboriously he shifted his weight onto his hands, clinging to the table.</p><p>“Father,” the princess said in concern. </p><p>Swiftly, Yusuf handed his platter to the servant standing nearest him and slid to the king’s side to help the man come to his feet.</p><p>“Thank you, Yusuf,” the king muttered. </p><p>Lord Nicolò had a curious eye on him. Yusuf returned the gaze with resolute indifference. There was nothing curious about it. He was an honorable man, Nicolò had said. He would execute his duties thusly. </p><p>Nicolò, did not seem to take any of this in. He was simply lost in the truth that he’d just heard the man’s name for the first time. He could hear it reverberating inside his head like a long lost song he’d forgotten he knew by heart.</p><p>“As many of you know,” the king started, “my daughter has been engaged these many years to Lord Nicolò. I have watched them blossom together from playmates in the garden, to the august man and woman sitting before me.  It is time their nuptials commenced. In ten days time, they will be wed.”</p><p>The hall erupted in cheers and toasts. The princess smiled from ear to ear, glowing in Nicolò’s direction. His father clapped him heartily on the back. Lord Nicolò appeared to be in shock, so far as Yusuf could surmise. A curious reaction to learning he would soon be crowned Prince. </p><p>After dinner, the crowd moved into the throne room to continue the celebration. Yusuf and Nuri joined them, of course, so that they could see to the needs of Amara and Uberto. In a moment of opportunity, Yusuf took it upon himself to stand with Nuri off to the side, looking on while the party proceeded. <br/>
 <br/>
“How long have you been here?” He asked her in a tone far more gentle than the one he had spoken before.</p><p>Nuri glanced at him respectfully. </p><p>“Since I was thirteen,” she explained. “I had wandered too close to Genoese occupied land. A solider spotted me and tried to…”</p><p>Her eyes darkened, clearly lost in the trauma. Yusuf could only imagine what the dirty Genoese military man had tried to do to the young defenseless Mahdian girl. </p><p>“Well,” she finally said, coming out of her reverie. “Lord Nicolò, I’m pretty sure he saved my life.”</p><p>“He is the one who will marry the princess,” Yusuf said, casting his eyes into the crowd and spotting Lord Nicolò, who was dancing with his future wife. </p><p>“Yes,” Nuri replied. “He will be the next king.”</p><p>“And he is the one who brought you here?” Yusuf asking, noting the pattern. </p><p>“It was that or watch me die,” Nuri attested. </p><p>“A man who is to be the next king ought to be able to divine more than just those two options,” he argued, eyes glued to the man. </p><p>“He was hardly more than a boy himself,” she said in his defense, beyond Yusuf’s understanding. Yusuf recalled the unexpected opinions he spouted at the dinner table with no resolve to argue their merit. He recalled the command he seemed to have over the admiral on the beach, but he did not wield it enough to let Yusuf go. </p><p>“Well, he’s not a boy now.”</p><p>Princess Amara was casting her eyes around the room, which pulled Nuri’s attention away from her prince. </p><p>“I must…” she started.</p><p>“Yes,” he nodded, and watched her tend to the princess. He took note that King Uberto seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open, so he followed Nuri’s lead and  returned to his duties. More than once as he assisted the king to his chamber and further to his bed, he found himself shaking off the thoughts of the man’s successor.</p><p>He did not wish to think of the man. He did not care to know how good his intentions or how worthy his ideals may be. Intentions and ideals did not matter in the least if they were not put to action. Intentions and ideals were of little use to Yusuf and the kingdom he’d grown up believing would one day be his. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Over the course of the following few days, Yusuf considered on more than one occasion how fortunate his current position might have proven to be if he had any means on contacting home. He’d overheard, or simply heard rather, several strategic plans of attack discussed by the king, and to the king. No one seemed overly concerned to keep their scheming secret from him. <em>And why should they</em>, he thought regretfully, as he in fact had no way of contacting his country, his kingdom, his family. </p><p>Still, he was sure to keep an open ear any chance he got, which was often, to gather as much information as he could, should he ever discover a fruitful use for it. </p><p>“And you are certain approach from this beach will not be expected?” King Uberto was speaking to Admiral Lombardi who had thrust a scroll with a hand drawn map under the king’s nose at his counsel table. </p><p>“It is entirely unoccupied, Your Majesty.” Lombardi replied. </p><p>“How have we obtained this information?” The king asked curiously. </p><p>“Lord Nicolo mapped the shore himself.” </p><p>“Well done, Nicolò,” the king commented happily to his successor. </p><p>Yusuf eyed the map discretely over the man’s shoulder, as he poured some water into his goblet. To the rest of the room he was invisible. To everyone, he often felt, except Lord Nicolò. The man seemed to keep a watchful eye on him. Indeed, Yusuf had lost count over the past few days how often he took note of the man looking at him, and how often he was led to quickly dashing his eyes away, as if he was doing something wrong in simply existing. The truth was, he was most at ease in this place when his existence went unnoticed, so he was careful never to seem overly observant, or overly anything else for that matter.</p><p>But when he looked up at the man, he had his eyes turned down at his folded hands. He did not seem very proud of this contribution, despite the satisfaction beaming from the other men in the room. His father clapped him jovially on the shoulder, which prompted him to turn up his head and smile. It was a smile Yusuf had seen before. Labored. Forced almost. </p><p>When he turned his eyes up at Yusuf this time, he did not shift them away. This time he kept them planted firmly at the man. He looked… regretful. Guilty.  </p><p>Sorry?</p><p>The knight was certainly unnerved though. Yusuf wasn’t certain if his gaze was causing it, or simply adding to it. But he was certain he held some kind of power in it… so he held it, unyieldingly. </p><p>“Father?” A voice far more delicate than any of the rest, brought everyone’s attention, Yusuf’s and Nicolò’s included, to the far end of the table, where the princess sat opposite the king.</p><p>“Yes, daughter?” The king responded, in quiet, hopeful surprise. </p><p>“Father, can I ask what you think of this?” She had come to her feet and was making her way to the head of the table, holding a small bit of parchment herself. </p><p>“Of course,” he answered, curiously. “What is it?”</p><p>“It’s a design set up for the ceremony,” she said, placing her parchment on top of the map. Yusuf could see a rough drawing of the palace grounds and several notes written all over it. “I know traditionally royal weddings take place in the throne room, but I thought, with the weather being so beautiful of late, it would be nice to have it in the piazza. The sun, and the flowers and the fountains. And that way more of the people can be a part of it too.”</p><p>“Hmm,” the king grumbled, handing the paper back to his daughter with a placating smile. “I will speak with the steward.”</p><p>“Do you like it, Nicolò?” The princess asked expectantly. </p><p>Lord Nicolò put on that same forced smile Yusuf had recognized now so many times. </p><p>“If you like it, I like it, Amorina,” he responded with charm. </p><p>“That will be all,” the king said wearily. He waved his hand weakly, and Yusuf took the cue to escort him out of the room. He did not ask where he wished to go next. He found that most of the time, when he had a moment to spare, the king needed rest. So he pushed the wheeled chair into the corridor, heading toward the man’s bedchamber. If he wished to go elsewhere he would speak up and say so. </p><p>He did not. </p><p>“Oh, Nicolò,” Princess Amara said dreamily, looping her arm through his as they walked out of the counsel room together, “it is going to be the most beautiful day, and we are going to be so happy. I cannot believe it is less than a week away!”</p><p>“Nor me, my sweet.”</p><p>The princess unwrapped herself from his embrace and backed away from him, excitedly.</p><p>“I am going to go find the steward and speak to him right now!”</p><p>Nicolò watched her dash away with enthusiasm. He found it difficult not to smile, at least at her exuberance. She often found joy in the simplest things. Some would argue it made her seem simple, superficial, but that didn’t bother Nicolò. He had always found her incredibly charming. </p><p>Still… </p><p>Charm, beauty, mirth. These things were all well and good, but then why did he not feel the same joy she expressed at the idea of marrying her? </p><p>“The princess has grown into a beautiful woman,” he heard his father say. He turned to find the man leaning against the wall outside the counsel room, where he had been watching their engagement. “You are indeed blessed, my boy. Who would have thought such an awkward young thing would bloom into the flower she has become? I admit I am almost envious, Nicolò.”</p><p>“Well, we are not married yet, Father,” Nicolò replied in a deliberately jocular tone. “It is not too late for you.” </p><p>The Baron Di Genova was not fooled by his son’s nonchalance.  </p><p>“Why would you say that?” He asked with a chilling calm. “Do you not love her?”</p><p>“Of course I do,” Nicolò answered him sincerely. “She is my oldest friend.”</p><p>“Nicolò,” the older man stepped closer to his son. “She <em>must</em> be more than a friend.”</p><p>Nicolò cast his eyes away briefly. He had been careless with his words. Honest though they may be, his father was too cunning not to divine deeper meaning from what was left unsaid. </p><p>“Yes. Father,” he said, looking back at his father, directly. </p><p>“I have spent years building this for you,” his voice grew quieter, and somehow more menacing. “Because of me, you will be the next king.”</p><p>“Ruling has never been my dream, it is yours,” Nicolò replied, more assuredly. </p><p>“And if I thought the king would allow his only daughter to marry a man twice her age,” the baron explained simply, “I would have arranged her for myself. But it is you, Nicolò. And you will not destroy what I have built for you.”</p><p>The young man swallowed his thoughts. It <em>was</em> him. He <em>would</em> be king. And though this idea often gave him pause, the one comfort it brought was that when he was king, he would outrank his father and no longer have to endure his incessant plotting and his constant exploitation. But in the meantime, he would have to bite his tongue</p><p>“Yes, father,” he said again. </p><p>***</p><p>Yusuf stepped out of the King’s bedchamber quietly, pulling the door closed behind him, careful not to make a sound in doing so. As the latch clicked shut, he turned to see Lord Nicolò approaching. </p><p>“I was hoping to have a word with the king,” the knight explained. </p><p>“He is asleep,” Yusuf answered simply. “I have been asked not to disturb him until dinner.”</p><p>“Yes, of course,” Nicolò responded. “Thank you… Yusuf, right?</p><p>“Yes, my lord.”</p><p>They stood looking at each other in awkward silence for a few long moments. </p><p>“Are you finding the palace comfortable?” Lord Nicolò finally asked. </p><p>“Excuse me?” Yusuf blinked. </p><p>“I just wondered if you were…” Nicolo twisted his fingers with his other hand and grimaced irritably. “Never mind.”</p><p>He turned to leave back the way he came, and Yusuf watched him for a few steps. </p><p>“I would be more comfortable at home…” Yusuf said. Nicolò stopped and turned to him, and Yusuf took a couple steps toward the knight. “If you really want to know.”</p><p>They walked together slowly down the corridor, stepping in and out of the patches of sunlight, pouring through the windows facing the square. </p><p>“Of course,” Nicolò responded. “Where is it you are from exactly?”</p><p>Yusuf considered his answer carefully. </p><p>“A little village,” he explained, providing the name of the town that surrounded the palace. “Rejiche.”</p><p>“I know it.” Nicolò smiled. It is one of the more beautiful places to watch the sun rise. The sky is… a different color there.” </p><p>Yusuf paused. In spite of himself, he felt the corners of his lips twitching slightly. Perhaps it was the novelty of hearing someone in this place speak of his home with such reverence. Perhaps it was something else. </p><p>“No, my lord,” he insisted. “The sky is a different color here.” </p><p>Lord Nicolò’s eyes sparkled at that remark. </p><p>“I suppose you’re right,” he acceded. “Have you been to Cap Afrique? It is one of my favorite places on Earth, which is saying a bit as I have been to more places than I can count.”</p><p>“No…” Yusuf lamented honestly. “My family was always quite wary of me wandering too far from home. Especially in places so heavily occupied by the Genoese.”</p><p>“No, but it isn’t. Not there,” Lord Nicolò insisted. He stopped walking and turned to face Yusuf directly. “The terrain was too rocky at first inspection, and the channel is too rough where the two currents meet, so the fleets must anchor further North. I only stumbled on it by accident the first time I went. I think I scared a few Mahdian children to be honest.”</p><p>Nicolò looked regretful at this, and raised his eyebrows in expectation of how Yusuf would respond. When he remained silent, Nicolò continued. </p><p>“There is a spot, at the horn of the cape, where if you stand facing the east at just the right time of day, the sun hits the water in such a way that it feels as if you’re standing on a cloud in the sky. Like you’re in the heavens.”  </p><p>Yusuf had been watching him while he detailed the spot. In spite of himself, he was swept up in the description. He had heard tell of the beauty of Cap Afrique, but not quite the way Lord Nicolò painted it. </p><p>“I should like to see that,” he said sincerely. </p><p>“I should like to go back,” Lord Nicolò said mournfully. “I suppose I will never see it again now.”</p><p>Yusuf blinked again. This statement drew him out of the wistfulness of the previous moment. Was this man actually looking for sympathy from him?  </p><p>“It will probably never be the same,” he weighed. “Not after it is overrun by your military.” </p><p>It was Nicolò’s turn to blink at this response. Yusuf explained his meaning.</p><p>“That is the spot on the map you drew, yes?” </p><p>“That is not what I had in mind when I drew the map,” Lord Nicolò admitted, regretfully. </p><p>“What did you have in mind?” Yusuf asked. </p><p>Nicolò paused. </p><p>“Awe,” he ventured with a shrug. “A memento, I suppose. To remember it when I am… when I am wasting away on a throne, stuck inside these palace walls.”   </p><p>“Wasting,” Yusuf repeated audaciously. “You speak as though you are the prisoner. As though you are the one enslaved”</p><p>Nicolò cast his eyes to Yusuf, but he did not respond right away. He didn’t know why he was letting the man speak this way. He didn’t know why he was speaking to <em>him</em> this way. But he understood well enough that there was some righteousness in his response. Still…  </p><p>“It’s what it feels like sometimes,” he said turning to the window.</p><p>Yusuf sighed. He badly wanted to walk away. He did not feel sorry for this man. He did not feel pity for the man who stepped into his land as an invader and schemed to abduct him and make him a slave in his palace. No, he would not feel sympathy for him.</p><p>Empathy, though. He could feel that. </p><p>It was less than a week ago, after all, that he expressed the exact thoughts to his younger brother. He too had grown up knowing he would one day be king. And although he felt an overwhelming sense of pride knowing this, he often wondered what kind of life he might have had otherwise… </p><p>“Do you know the kind of power you are about to take hold of?” He asked Nicolò, echoing the very same envious words his brother spoke to him that day. “The responsibility?”</p><p>“It is a responsibility I never wanted,” Nicolò admitted, looking out the window into the square. </p><p>“It will be yours nonetheless,” Yusuf said harshly. “I know it must feel wonderful to travel to exotic places where people have lived for thousands of years and to claim it as your own discovery…”</p><p>Nicolò turned to the African man, his expression hardened as well.</p><p>“…But soon you will be king,” Yusuf reminded him. “You. Perhaps it is time to decide what kind of king you want to be.”</p><p>He did walk away this time, leaving Nicolò standing in his wake, looking utterly perplexed. He was embarrassed to have let him speak to him in this way, but he was more embarrassed that he knew he had been thoroughly put in his place. And he was most chagrined to find that he cared most of all what the man thought of him. </p><p>More than he’d ever cared what his father, or his king, or his bride-to-be ever thought of him. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicolò found himself pacing the grounds lately, his mind racing with the notions of too many intruders who did not belong. </p><p>His father, for one, imposing his own ambition to rule Genoa on him. It was an ambition Nicolò had grown recently more wary of. Nicolò never wanted to be king. He would desire for nothing more than to see all the corners of the world, scale its mountains, forge its rivers, travel its unbeaten paths. But he was beginning to wonder about the world in which a man like Baron di Genova were to gain more power. He used to wish it could be so, that the Baron could succeed to the throne and Nicolò could be free. But something in his father’s eyes that day in the halls certainly gave him pause. </p><p>His betrothed, with her incessant wedding planning. Nicolò cared little for flowers and centerpieces. He cared little for the wedding at all. It would be a wonderful feeling to have it all over with. And he certainly counted himself lucky to be able to wake up next to one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known every day for the rest of his life. <em>Every day for the rest of his life.</em> But he wished it could just be a simple affair. Private. Perhaps somewhere exotic. But he and the princess did not share the same thoughts on the matter. Over the past several years, he was realizing more and more that he and his bride shared little of the same desires and dreams.  </p><p>And Yusuf. Yusuf the audacious servant, presuming to tell him of the responsibility that awaits him. Who was he to speak to him so boldly? Who was he to lecture him on obligation and duty? </p><p>Yusuf with his accusing stares. As if it were Nicolò’s fault their two countries were at war. </p><p>Yusuf with his knowing gazes, as Nicolò hid his misgivings from the world. His reluctance to rule. His restlessness in staying put. His hesitance to marry. Why did it all feel so easily ignored by everyone else in the world, except Yusuf?  </p><p>He wanted to tell the man off, but as he rarely left the king’s side, and as the king spent much of his time in his chamber these days, the man was difficult to find. </p><p>He would settle, he supposed, for addressing the other problem at hand. The matter of his feelings toward Amara. He wanted desperately to be be certain about something in his life. He would not feel ready to rule until he was doing it. He would probably never stop yearning to travel the world. But he figured he could remedy the sense of distance between him and his bride by bridging whatever he was keeping between them. By opening up to her. By letting her in. He would start there. </p><p>As it happened, Yusuf was not with the king that afternoon. He’d been commanded by the weary monarch to assist Nuri in caretaking for his daughter, as her needs in planning the wedding were growing by the day. </p><p>“The chiffon and lace is more traditional,” Princess Amara said, holding a white gown against her body and tilting her head just so, looking into the mirror of her bedchamber. “I like the way the gold piping shines in the sunlight. It’s very regal.”</p><p>She lay the gown out on the chaise beside her and picked up a second dress, which had an iridescent quality to it. “But… this silk one… there is just something about it. It glows… like a pearl like… an opal.” </p><p>“And the color…” Nuri remarked, in admiration, standing behind her, “it is remarkable. It reminds me of the place where the sea meets the sky at sunset. When you can see almost every color at once.”  </p><p>The princess smiled dreamily.</p><p>“But is that right for a wedding?” She asked. She turned to the two servants in the room, her expression conveying the utmost importance of the matter. “What do you think Yusuf?”</p><p>“Men do not care for such things,” Nuri said with a light smile. </p><p>“Of course they do,” the princess answered her wittingly, smirking at Yusuf. “They just do not admit it.”</p><p>“I believe you would be stunning in either,” Yusuf said to her with charm. </p><p>“Of course I would,” she agreed. “And stunning I shall be for my people. But I need to be <em>ravishing</em>, for Nicolò.”</p><p>She held the first dress to her body and smoothed it out with her free hand. Yusuf watched her with interest. </p><p>“He must learn to keep his head here in Genoa,” she said with determination. “He deserves a queen that will keep his attention.”</p><p>“Perhaps his queen deserves a king who will give it.”</p><p>Both women in the room turned their heads sharply to the man who spoke. Nuri looked terrified. Princess Amara’s expression was more difficult to read. She was astonished for sure… but underneath there was also a hint of amusement. <br/>
 <br/>
“How dare you?” She said quietly, almost smirking, almost chuckling. </p><p>“Excuse me, princess,” Yusuf nodded. He cast a brief glance at Nuri to ensure her that her prince was not a reckless man. “I just mean…”</p><p>“What do you mean?” She asked, laying the dress back on top of the chaise and stepping closer to him.</p><p>“That there ought to be more to a companion than how they look,” he finished. </p><p>The princess twitched her lips and shook her head with a small roll of the eyes, a fantastical thought she’d heard before.</p><p>“Such as?”</p><p>“Such as sharing your thoughts,” Yusuf suggested simply, meeting her gaze and holding it resolute. Resolute, but kind. “Your dreams, your passions.”</p><p>Yusuf recalled for a moment the way Lord Nicolò had briefly shared his passions a few days earlier… as if he’d never had anyone else to speak them to before. </p><p>“Like dresses?” The princess smiled coyly, implicit of the absurdity of Lord Nicolò discussing dresses and fashion with the princess. </p><p>“I suppose if that is your passion then yes,” Yusuf responded sincerely. Though he had trouble imagining it as well. </p><p>“…And <em>tisanes</em>?” She added. </p><p>Yusuf blinked at her. He cast a curious eye to Nuri and then looked back at the princess who was smiling. It was a smile he hadn’t seen from her before. It was not the smile she forced when she was playing the icon of the people. It was not the smile of the demure princess who fusses over fashion and beauty. It was the smile of a woman expressing true delight. </p><p>“<em>Tisanes</em>, your highness?”</p><p>“Once when my stomach was upset,” the princess explained, “Nuri brewed a tea for me, and it worked like magic, Yusuf. She says there are many other natural remedies known to her culture, but she does not remember, since she was taken from them so long ago. But I find it fascinating.”</p><p>Yusuf exchanged another glance with Nuri, whose expression conveyed longing, as well as mild unease. Yusuf felt compassion for her. She needn’t have been ashamed for sharing their knowledge, nor for forgetting a good deal of it. But he could only imagine how it must have felt to be Nuri all those years ago, clinging to what little she could remember of home. And sharing it with the person she had become closest with, for better or for worse. To say it was complicated would be putting it lightly. </p><p>“Yes, there are many,” Yusuf spoke to the princess. </p><p>“Sometimes I wonder if a simple concoction could have saved my mother,” the princess lamented quietly. “Or if one could save my father.”</p><p>“I am not a medicine man,” Yusuf admitted. “I suppose it is possible. It is a shame our countries are at war.”</p><p>“That is a shame regardless,” the princess replied without thinking. She looked sharply at Yusuf, and then at Nuri, before clearing her throat and returning to the task at hand. </p><p>“Now really, you must both tell me which is better” she demanded with a smile. “This is the most important gown I shall ever wear. If it does not please I will never be taken seriously as a queen.”</p><p>“I like the silk one,” Nuri said. </p><p>“Yes,” Yusuf agreed, “…the silk.”</p><p>The booming sound of the princess’s bedchamber door brought all their attention to Lord Nicolò bursting into the room. </p><p>“Nicolò!” The princess exclaimed, laying a shawl over the two gowns on the chaise. “You should not be here right now; we are waist deep in wedding plans.”</p><p>“But that is why I’m here, my love,” he said as he approached her, taking her hand and bowing forward to kiss it. “I’ve come to help.”</p><p>“You’ve come to help with the wedding plans?” The princess asked, curiously. “You care about the flower arrangements and the musical choices?”</p><p>Nicolò’s eyes darted briefly to the two servants in the room. They rested on Yusuf’s a bit longer than on Nuri’s. Yusuf returned his gaze with a slight cock of one eyebrow, which brought Nicolò’s attention quickly back to his princess. </p><p>“In truth no,” he admitted, “but I do care to spend time with you, my love.”</p><p>“Oh Nicolò,” the princess nearly melted. “I must admit that’s exactly what I hoped you’d say. Come.”</p><p>She took both his hands in hers and led him to another set of armchairs closer to the window.</p><p>“Wedding talk can wait for now,” she offered, waving a hand toward Nuri and Yusuf. They both made to approach the two, but Nuri gave Yusuf a small shake of her head, so that he remained where he stood. “Tell me about your journey, Tesoro. It must have been quite spectacular to have kept you away so long.” </p><p>“Oh, Mahdia,” Nicolò said with a faraway smile and a sparkle in his eye the princess couldn’t help but notice. Nor could Yusuf. “It was magnificent. The most beautiful place in the world. Or one of them anyway. The sun rises fiery red over a navy sea, which bursts into a glitter of stars on the water, and it sets over a golden expanse of sand, pulling a blanket of coral, melting into violet, melting into cyan across the sky. </p><p>“It sounds spectacular,” the princess replied, dreamily. Behind her, Nuri poured water for the two of them, gazing longingly into the space between them. Yusuf felt a pang of yearning in his heart. </p><p>“Perhaps one day I can take you there,” Nicolò suggested. </p><p>“Me?”</p><p>“Of course, Amorina.” Nicolò replied. “We can sleep in the sand, under the stars.”</p><p>“In the sand?”</p><p>“We can bring a blanket if you like.”</p><p>“Oh…” the princess smiled weakly. “Or perhaps we can find a palace to stay in… being royalty and all.”</p><p>Nicolò chuckled lightly, attempting to hide his dismay. Yusuf could still read it clearly. </p><p>“Of course, Cara,” he said. “Some wine?”</p><p>“Wine?” </p><p>“Yes,” Nicolò insisted. “Yusuf would you open a bottle for us, please?”</p><p>“Nicolò,” princess Amara pressed. “It is barely midday. Are you trying to have your way with me?”</p><p>“Would that be so terrible?” He asked her, as Yusuf leaned over them pouring them each a generous glass of wine. Nicolò chanced a glance his way and found his eyes boring into his own.</p><p>“Leave us,” he said, quiet but firm, communicating once and for all to this audacious man he did not have their number, the way Nicolò feared more so every second that he did. </p><p>“Nicolò!” The princess exclaimed at his rashness. She tried to reason with with him, her face growing more and more flush by the second. “We are to be married in less than a week.”</p><p>“Amore,” he reminded her, as Yusuf and Nuri vacated the room silently. “We have been engaged for thirteen years.”</p><p>“Oh, Nicolò…” the princess said, shaking her head. “…Good point.”</p><p>Nicolò’s surprise at her response had left him easily handled in the next moment. She stood, pulling him to his feet as well, and pushed him backwards toward the door, speaking in a frenzy.</p><p>“You must give me a moment,” she spoke quickly, shoving him through the door. “I am sorry, you must wait a few more moments.”</p><p>As the door slammed shut in his face, Nicolò couldn’t help but smirk. Maybe this was what they needed. Perhaps finally consummating their long relationship would bring them closer, strengthening their childhood bond, allowing it to grow into something more intimate, something like a marriage should be.  </p><p>He was vaguely aware of another presence standing with him in the hallway, and turned to find Yusuf standing behind him. </p><p>“What are you still doing here?” he demanded. </p><p>“The king has instructed me to look after his daughter whenever he is sleeping,” Yusuf answered simply. “He is sleeping again.”</p><p>Nicolò responded lamely with a nod at first, but then quickly found his words, and his command along with them.</p><p>“Listen,” he said, stepping closer to Yusuf, “You will do well to remember that, yes, I will be your king. Very soon. And you cannot speak to me the way you have spoken to me.”</p><p>Yusuf held the man’s eye contact for a long moment before responding.<br/>
 <br/>
“What would you do, my lord?”</p><p>Nicolò was taken aback at the man’s persistent defiance. It was infuriating how unbalanced he could make him feel.</p><p>“I could have you sent to the copper mines,” he threatened. </p><p>Yusuf considered this for a moment. </p><p>“I don’t know that you could, my lord,” he reasoned. “I don’t belong to you; I belong to the king.”</p><p>“You forget I will <em>be</em> the next king.”</p><p>“And <em>you</em> forget the current king has commanded that I look after his daughter in his absence,” Yusuf reminded him. “I shall not be yours when he is gone but <em>hers</em>. And she likes me very much.”</p><p>He smiled cheekily at the knight. </p><p>“Of course she does,” Nicolò responded, plainly. At Yusuf’s questioning eye, he added, “She likes everyone.”</p><p>Yusuf couldn’t help but smile sincerely at this.</p><p>“Yes…” he nodded. “She will make a most beloved queen. I dare say she’d be a fine ruler too if she believed in herself…”</p><p>He gave Nicolò a pointed look before continuing.</p><p>“…If anyone around her believed in her.”</p><p>“And what would you know about ruling?” Nicolò challenged him. </p><p>Yusuf took a step back from the man this time. This question gave him pause.</p><p>“Nothing,” he answered, plainly. </p><p>Nicolò could see, however, there was something dancing behind Yusuf’s eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure what, but it stirred in him a renewed curiosity about the man.  </p><p>“Who were you in Mahdia?” Nicolò asked quietly. </p><p>“It does not matter,” Yusuf responded, finally turning away. </p><p>“It does matter,” Nicolò argued, stepping further into Yusuf’s line of sight. “To me it matters.”</p><p>He looked disheartened, and Nicolò was surprised to find himself heavy-hearted in response.  </p><p>“Whoever I was before,” Yusuf explained, “whatever I was, you have seen to it that I am not that now.”</p><p>“You are wrong,” Nicolò was saying before he was even aware. “You are…”</p><p>Yusuf was compelling. He was captivating. He was august. He was…regal. For far more moments than could be ignored, he found himself lost in the man’s dark, expressive eyes. The eyes that stared back at him in question, in dismay, in scorn. </p><p>“Nicolo?”</p><p>They were both drawn out of the moment by the sound of the princess’s voice calling from the other side of the door. “I’m ready my darling!”</p><p>In a flash, the knight disappeared down the corridor out of sight. Yusuf was still processing what had transpired between them moments earlier when the princess appeared in the open doorway, dressed in a rose colored negligee under a sheer silver shawl.</p><p>“Nicolò? Oh! Yusuf,” she said in disappointment, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s run off again?”</p><p>Yusuf nodded awkwardly. The princess sighed. <br/>
 <br/>
“I cannot understand him sometimes, Yusuf.” She disappeared behind her door again, clearly dejected. </p><p>Yusuf turned back to the spot where Nicolò had disappeared. He couldn’t help but to have the exact same thought. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was difficult to avoid both Yusuf and the princess over the coming days. Plans for the wedding and the coronation brought Amara to his side frequently. Yusuf was often there. And when he wasn’t with the princess, he was standing at the king’s shoulder in the counsel room. </p><p>Nicolò did his best to avoid the man’s eye while the men around him discussed their plans to launch a full out attack on the shores of Madhia. </p><p>“We must act now while we have the chance,” Baron di Genova was imploring the king. </p><p>“Are the units ready?” The weakened old man asked of the room. </p><p>Nicolò looked up from his hands at the king. He was looking expectantly to Admiral Lombardi. Behind him, Yusuf stood tall. His eyes were on Nicolò, again. He was frowning. Nicolò realized he was too. </p><p>“They are, Your Majesty,” Admiral Lombardi responded with a bow of his head.</p><p>“If I may, Sire,” Nicolò interjected.  All eyes in the room were on him now. “It may behoove us to wait until the winter months. The longer nights will provide us with more time in the cover of darkness.”</p><p>The king considered this quietly. Yusuf’s mouth hung open ever so slightly. </p><p>“And in the meantime their forces are growing stronger by the day,” Baron di Genova argued.</p><p>“And in the meantime we could try again at diplomacy,” Nicolò countered. Yusuf blinked at him. His brow furrowed slightly and his lips twitched into something almost resembling a smile. </p><p>“Could we, father?” All eyes turned to the princess at the far end of the table. She exuded a hope and innocence that both Yusuf and Nicolò found endearing. To the other men in the room, though, it was only construed as naivety. </p><p>“They are barbarians, princess,” Baron di Genova explained to her gently, before changing his tone to one more potent. “The only language they understand is force.”</p><p>“Of course,” she responded meekly. </p><p>The king sighed a weary, heavy sigh which brought the men’s focus back on him. </p><p>“Launch the attack,” he said quietly. “That will be all.”</p><p>Everyone cleared the table, and Yusuf pushed the king’s chair, making their way back to his bedchamber. This had become a common routine. He met Nicolò’s eyes briefly as he walked directly past him, and they shared knowing look, that this king did not have long for this world. </p><p>Nicolò turned to watch them leave the counsel room. He did not wish the man ill, but he thought his death would be for the best, for him and for the kingdom. The king was hardly calling the shots these days. His mind was becoming more addled with disease, and he was becoming more and more pliable to the men he surrounded himself with. Not that he had ever been shy to launch an attack in his own right either. </p><p>“Nicolò, my boy!” His father had stepped up to him and thrust a heavy arm across his shoulders. “Perhaps…I have been too hard on you.”</p><p>He walked with Nicolò ushering him firmly out of the room with the rest of its previous occupants. </p><p>“You have a talent for exploration,” he continued with a placating smile. “Perhaps ruling is not what you are meant to do.”</p><p>Nicolò turned to the man and frowned lightly.</p><p>“What are you saying, father?”</p><p>“I am saying if you would really like to be freed from your engagement… the king has become more pursuesive lately.”</p><p>He was not surprised to learn that his father had noted it too. He had always been a very ambitious man. It seemed his ambition had finally expanded toward the ultimate power. </p><p>“No father,” Nicolò held his chin straight and looked the man squarely in the eye. “I was being foolish. A moment of trepidation, that’s all.”</p><p>“Well…” The older man sneered for the briefest of moments before morphing it into another sardonic smile. “A word of advice Nicolò. If you plan to rule you will need a more steely exterior, not fearful of conflict. Not to worry, I will help you.”</p><p>He placed a hand to Nicolò’s shoulder again, and gave him one last condescending smirk. Nicolò did not return it. He watched his father walk away, knowing the man was right. He <em>would</em> need a more steely exterior. In order to remind the Baron of his place. </p><p>***</p><p>The princess opened door to her chamber and was surprised to see the man standing on the other side, his hand held aloft as if to knock. </p><p>“Oh,” she said, nearly walking right into him. “Hello Yusuf.”</p><p>“Hello Your Highness,” he said with a smile. </p><p>“Is he sleeping again?” She asked sadly. </p><p>“Yes, Princess,” He nodded. </p><p>She gave a resolute quirk to her lips. “He does that an awful lot now, doesn’t he? It’s been so difficult to find a moment alone with him. I was on my way to see if he fancied a walk on the grounds. It’s such a lovely day.”</p><p>“I shall walk with you, if you would like,” he offered. </p><p>This made the princess smile true. She nodded. They walked slowly through the halls together. </p><p>“If you’ll forgive me for saying so, Princess,” Yusuf said softly, “I do not envy your position.”</p><p>“What position?” She asked him, not dismayed by his statement at all. </p><p>“To look forward to being queen,” he explained, “while simultaneously dreading your father’s death.” </p><p>Yusuf had never looked to his succession with much anticipation. It was only ever a foreboding thought, the idea of his strong, capable and wise father no longer walking this earth. </p><p>“Being queen will be no different than being princess,” she responded with a shrug. “I will answer to the king, only soon the king will be my husband instead of my father.”</p><p>She heaved a mournful sigh. </p><p>“It does not have to be so,” Yusuf suggested. “In my land, the women have as much a say as the men. Some have even ruled.”</p><p>The princess smiled wistfully. </p><p>“Your land has always sounded so fascinating, Yusuf” she responded before shaking her head. “But I have no understanding of how to rule. I have no opinions on matters of war. I have no <em>knowledge</em> of it.”</p><p>“It is never too late to learn,” he offered. </p><p>The princess actually chuckled at this. </p><p>“Me? A commander?”</p><p>“You a leader,” he amended. “You a statesman. A peacemaker.”</p><p>“But… war is the only language that matters across borders, isn’t it?” She frowned. Yusuf returned it regretfully.</p><p>“If you say so, princess?” He said with a light shrug. </p><p>“But I don’t say so,” she insisted. “It’s what everyone else says. That’s the point.”</p><p>“But you are the one who will be queen,” Yusuf pushed. “<em>That</em> is the point.”</p><p>The princess’s expression returned to one of mourning again. </p><p>“Do you think he is going to die?”</p><p>He’d been wrong. For Princess Amara, the idea of being queen coincided only with grief for the eventual passing of her father. She looked to him like a lost child. In spite of himself, he reached out for her and pulled her in for a compassionate hug. </p><p>***</p><p>The king did not make an appearance at dinner. Yusuf arrived in the banquet hall halfway through the third course, when the palace doctor had relieved him of his watch for the evening, ensuring him the king’s needs, if there would be any, would be met by his nurse. </p><p>The table was quiet. Nicolò’s father and the Admiral sat next to each other, speaking in hushed tones about the impending attack in Mahdia. The princess pushed her food around her plate, taking one or two bites now and then. </p><p>Nicolò placed a gentle consoling hand over hers, to which she responded with as close to a smile as she could muster. In the corner of the room, he could see Yusuf eyeing them both. He did that an awful lot, Nicolò was noting. He found it equally stirring and infuriating. </p><p>After dinner, he made an effort to walk the princess to her bedroom. She wrapped her arms around him and held him in a long firm embrace before they said goodnight. Nicolò rested his chin on the top of her head and kissed her on the temple, a comforting show of affection. </p><p>But it wasn’t love, he thought to himself as he walked away. Not romantic love. Not passionate love. Not soul soaring, aching, yearning love. He did not feel that for Amara, and he couldn’t deny it any longer. Over the past several days, it had become harder and harder to ignore. Ever since Yusuf arrived with his judging stares, all he ever felt when it came to the princess was guilt. </p><p>He followed his feet through the dark corridors of the palace. Past the throne room and the banquet hall. Down the stairs beyond the kitchens. Without realizing it, he’d found himself in the servant quarters. </p><p>He wasn’t sure why he knew which room to choose, but something pulled him to one particular door, and he knocked with confidence. As it swung open, Yusuf appeared on the other side, a curious expression on his face.</p><p>“My lord?” </p><p>“Why have you been watching me?” Nicolò demanded. </p><p>“Excuse me?” Yusuf asked, bewildered. </p><p>“Why have you been watching me?” The future king repeated himself. </p><p>“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Bullshit.” Nicolò countered firmly. </p><p>Yusuf crossed his arms and gave the man a very questioning look. </p><p>“Every time I look you are looking at me,” Nicolò attested. </p><p>Yusuf cast his eyes to one side and then another, trying to process these words.</p><p>“My lord,” he rubbed his temple as patiently as he could. “It is my job to attend to the needs of the court. If I am looking at you it is only to see whether you <em>have</em> any.”</p><p>Nicolò stared at him lamely for an awkward moment of silence. </p><p>“Might it be fair to submit that every time <em>I</em> look, you are looking at <em>me</em>?” Yusuf countered the man’s accusation. </p><p>Nicolò scoffed at this suggestion. </p><p>The two men stared at each other for another prolonged moment. Yusuf was completely perplexed by Lord Nicolò’s sudden erratic behavior. That it would bring him all the way to his quarters in the middle of the night. </p><p>“Is there something you need, my lord?” Yusuf pressed, his tone betraying his disgruntled mood slightly. It was in that moment though, that he could see the distress in the man’s prismatic eyes. He eased his tone when he spoke again. “Is there… something on your mind?”</p><p>“I would not want to expect compassion where there is none,” Nicolò replied, calling forth an exchange they’d had days before. </p><p>“About your fabricated prison…” Yusuf couldn’t hide his slight roll of the eye. </p><p>“No,” Nicolò responded immediately, and then hesitated for a moment of anguish. Yusuf waited in silence and renewed patience. “I am not in love with the princess.”</p><p>He looked away in shame, seemingly terrified to have said the words out loud. </p><p>“I love her,” he clarified. “We grew up together. She is my oldest, dearest friend. But I do not feel for her the way she feels for me.”</p><p>The admission hung in the air before Yusuf spoke to him. When he did so, he spoke to with an understanding intended to mollify the guilt he sensed in the other man. </p><p>“Since when is a royal marriage dependent on love?” </p><p>Nicolò turned back to Yusuf and looked him over with his piercing eyes. </p><p>“Why do you speak of these things with such familiarity?” He asked, increasingly curious, <em>and suspicious</em>, of who Yusuf was before his capture. </p><p>“These things are known, are they not?” He suggested with a shrug. “I would not have guessed loving her or not loving her was the problem anyway. You don’t want to be king, right?”</p><p>Nicolò sighed. </p><p>“I don’t… desire to be king,” he admitted. “But I don’t want any more war.”</p><p>Yusuf considered him carefully. He suspected Lord Nicolò might feel this way, but it was the first time he’d heard the man be brave enough to speak it outright. To finally declare what kind of king he wanted to be.</p><p>“I don’t believe the princess wants it either, my lord” Yusuf suggested to him, implying that perhaps she could be the one to broker a peace. </p><p>“I adore her…” Nicolò argued, “but as a queen, she will make an excellent puppet for whoever has her ear.”</p><p>“You don’t think she has opinions of her own?” Yusuf pressed. </p><p>“If she does she does not express them,” Nicolò responded. </p><p>“To <em>you</em>,” was Yusuf’s reply. Nicolò blinked, and Yusuf took a small step backwards. He had not intended to be spiteful, but he worried it had come off as such. He considered his own words, realizing that the princess most likely only shared things with him because she believe there to be no danger of him chiding her for them.</p><p>“Nor to anyone who matters,” he continued.</p><p>“<em>You</em> matter, Yusuf,” Nicolò responded reflexively. Yusuf gazed at him in curosity.</p><p>“Not to your government’s policies and military campaigns, I don’t.”</p><p>“But to <em>her</em> you do,” Nicolò insisted. “Or she wouldn’t share so much with you.”</p><p>It was occurring to Nicolò for the first time that Yusuf very clearly mattered to him too, or he wouldn’t be sharing so much either. Or he wouldn’t have saved his life that day on the beach. Or he wouldn’t care so much what the man thought of him. Or he wouldn’t want desperately to run away from the palace, with him at his side. </p><p>At that very moment it was also occurring to Yusuf how how much confidence Lord Nicolò had placed in him, and how his words so clumsily betrayed the meaning behind it, that somehow the man truly cared for him. </p><p>“Do you speak the truth?” Yusuf asked of him. “About wanting the war to end?”</p><p>“Of course I do,” Nicolò responded sincerely. “Why would I lie?”</p><p>“Then… I am sorry to say that for the good of both our countries, I believe you must marry the princess.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to say I agree.”</p><p>They stared at one another in silence yet again. Yusuf was surprised to find that he truly was sorry. He was actually feeling compassion for the man. And not just compassion… could it be regret? </p><p>“Why do you let me speak to you so?” He chanced the question that had been nagging at him for days. This man… a knight, a master, a future king should not be tolerant of such impertinent words from a servant. In the very least, he should not give any mind to Yusuf’s opinions on his future marriage.</p><p>“Why do you let me speak to <em>you</em> so?” Nicolò countered Yusuf with his very same question, the implication that they were equals, or quite possibly that Lord Nicolò considered Yusuf above him. Yusuf shook his head in bewilderment. He opened his mouth to reply, but he discovered no words were coming to him. </p><p>“Goodnight Yusuf,” Nicolo said with a slight bow.</p><p>“Goodnight, my lord,” Yusuf responded. He stood in his doorway for several moments after, watching the man disappear into the dark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The princess sat on the edge of the fountain in the center of the courtyard. In her hands she held a spray of violet balloon flowers, from which she plucked one single blossom and stuck it loosely between strands of the hair that spilled across her shoulder. The sun hung low in the sky behind her, so that her shadow stretched the diameter of the fountain, Nuri’s shadow stretching along beside it. She was vaguely aware of yet another moving across the bottom of the pool, as a voice broke the blissful quiet of only the sound of the trickling water throughout the square.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“A thing of great beauty.” Princess Amara turned to see Baron di Genova approaching her slowly, a toothy grin on full display. She returned a small smile politely.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“It has always been my favorite flower,” she replied.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I was not referring to the flower,” the Baron said slyly, as he took a seat beside her on the fountain’s edge.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>The princess gave another coy smile. Nuri stayed close, standing behind her watching, as the Baron inched slightly closer to Princess Amara.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“My dear…” he spoke gently, taking her hands, the flowers jutting out between their chests, “How have you been?”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>There was a shift in the princess's expression. Her smile remained, but it was masking something else.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I have been well in body,” she put simply, “but pained in spirit.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Indeed, Princess, to be facing both the happiest day of your life and the saddest,” the Baron said consolingly.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I fear they may be one and the same,” she replied.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I understand my dear,” he said. “But... you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>happy to be marrying my son…”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Of course,” the princess replied with firm sincerity. “Why wouldn’t I be?”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>The baron responded with a fraudulent air of concern.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“He has seemed distracted to me of late. Have you noticed?”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“No,” the princess frowned, because of course she had.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Well, naturally,” he said sympathetically. “With all the wedding planning, you have been quite distracted as well. But, to me, it has seemed these last many months, the nearer your nuptials draw the more his head has been elsewhere.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Do you think he does not want to marry me?” the princess asked.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh, I would not say that, Princess,” he’d shifted his tone to one of assurance, though his words clearly intended to sew doubt. “It’s just… he seems to have always had a strong proclivity for the world outside the palace. One has to wonder what, or who, might be so compelling out there.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Of course....” The princess replied, her mind newly troubled. “The war in Mahdia has been long and difficult.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Indeed, my dear,” the Baron said, with a pat to her hand. “You needn’t worry in that regard, as I believe our victory is at hand as we speak. The war may well be over by nightfall.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p><span><br/>
I</span><span><span>nside the palace walls, Nicolò’s thoughts </span><em><span>were </span></em><span>on the world outside, but not in the way they had always been. For the first time, in the many years since he’d first learned he would marry Amara and thereby become king, Nicolò felt the weight of what it would mean, of all the souls he would be responsible for, have power over, in his own kingdom and beyond. There seemed to be little he could do about the impending attack on the shores of Yusuf’s homeland, but that would soon change, as the king’s health was weakening by the minute. <br/>
<br/>
</span></span><span>He stood in front of the mirror of his chamber, scrutinizing the man staring back at him. He wore the freshly tailored kingly garments intended for his coming coronation. A surcoat of navy and royal blues festooned with tassles and a belt of gold. They were grander even than those which he would first wear to his wedding.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>His trance was broken by the light tap on his door. After voicing permission to enter, he turned to see Yusuf in the doorway, carrying a message on a platter. As he approached, he could see that on it carried the broken seal of Admiral Lombardi. Clearly Baron di Genova had read it first.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò thanked Yusuf and quickly perused the words on the page. His eyebrows sunk low against the bridge of his nose, and when he looked up, Yusuf was watching him, concern unhidden in his expression.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“The attack is underway,” Nicolò explained gently.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf nodded woefully, as though he expected as much.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“There is not much else of significance.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf bowed this time. “Thank you, my lord,” he said as he turned to leave.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Yusuf stay, please?” Nicolò had spoken so quickly he himself was taken aback. Yusuf stopped and turned back to him, looking equally stirred, but compliant nonetheless.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Never mind,” Nicolò said with a hint of insecurity. “You may go. Unless... you’d like to stay.”  <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf took in a steadying breath. The knight’s behavior was becoming more and more mystifying. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Sir?”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I do not want you to stay because I command it,” Lord Nicolò replied humbly. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf blinked patiently and stifled a smile. <br/>
<br/>
</span>“My lord, I am only here at all because you commanded it,” he reminded him.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Nicolò responded with remorse. <br/>
<br/>
<span>The moment stretched on in which neither man said or did anything. Just as Nicolò moved to turn away from him, Yusuf stepped further into the room and took a seat on the chair by the mirror. Nicolò watched him. He felt his lips twitching, giving way to his pleasure that Yusuf decided to stay. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“By which I mean…” Yusuf spoke with sincerity, “I am only </span><em><span>alive </span></em><span>because you commanded it.” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò slowly tilted his head away thoughtfully. It was true that he had done the only thing he could think of to ensure Yusuf was not killed on the beach that day, far beyond his own understanding at the time. But he was still reasonably ashamed, now more than ever, that he had not been able to assert himself more, to also preserve the man's freedom. In the moment, it meant little more to him than not watching a fascinating foreigner slaughtered before him. The more he came to know Yusuf, the more he regretted the role he played in the man’s servitude… imprisonment.<br/>
<br/>
</span>“That is more credit than I deserve,” he said regretfully. <br/>
<br/>
<span>“Yes,” Yusuf nodded again, as Nicolò was taking a seat in the chair across from him. The future king looked quickly at Yusuf in surprise at his assertion. A moment passed between them before they both chuckled, breaking the tension quite effectively. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“It suits you,” Yusuf observed, giving Nicolò a warm smile and nodding at his attire. “You make a fine looking king.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò gave himself a once over before looking back at Yusuf. He couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit elated at Yusuf’s compliment, but did not quell the self doubt written on his face. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“It is not the clothes that make a king,” he remarked.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“No,” Yusuf concured. “That comes from somewhere else.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò heaved a quiet but heavy sigh. He hoped wherever it came from, he could find it in himself. Yusuf considered the other man for a moment. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I believe it comes from the same place which suggested a desire for peace to me last night,” he proposed.<br/>
<br/>
</span>“Yes...”<br/>
<br/>
<span>“You still intend to pursue that course?” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I do,” Nicolò nodded resolutely, a reassured smile dancing on his lips. Yusuf returned it. “It will not be easy. Many will be angry about it.” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“You will convince them,” Yusuf assured him quietly.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“And there is no guarantee the Mahdian’s will even be open to it,” Nicolò mused aloud.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“You can pursued them,” Yusuf encouraged in the same gentle tone.  <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I will try,” Nicolò said, meeting Yusuf’s eyes again. “That is the one good thing I can do with the crown.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“It is only one of many good things you can do with the crown, sir.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>Nicolò stared at Yusuf for longer than either man should have been comfortable with. But he found that he could rest calmly in these long silences with him. Yusuf seemed to bring something out of him. A determination. A purpose. Nicolò was beginning to realize that he'd never felt more sure of who he was, who he'd always been meant to be, than when he was with this man. He wished there was a way he could return the favor to him, but Yusuf had always seemed completely certain of himself. There had never been any hesitation in him. He was the kind of man, Nicolò suspected, who was destined for great things. <br/>
<br/>
<span>He did not belong cooped up behind these palace walls, a mere servant. Shame crept back into his heart, but only briefly. It was replaced just as quickly by a steadfast tenacity. By a call to action.  <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Yes,” Nicolò agreed. “You are right, and I will start with you.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf was taken aback. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Me, my lord?”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“</span><em><span>And</span></em><span> all of your people,” the knight avowed. “All of the servants who have been wrongfully spirited away from the Maghreb shall be returned.” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf found himself speechless. He could only stare, dumbfounded at the man.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“It would not make up for the harm it has done in the first place,” Lord Nicolò continued, “but it is the least acceptable place to start. And then you would be free to return home if that is your wish.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf could feel his heart leap up into his throat. His stomach fluttered. He was overcome with hope.  He was overcome with something else. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“What other wish could I have?” He asked slowly, quietly. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Because he realized there was another wish. He could think of other situations in which he would not return home, in which he could see himself happy living another life, in which he would spend his days looking into the wondrously prismatic eyes that stared back at him that very moment. But those scenarios could never come to be. Not in the way Yusuf desired. Not if there were to truly come a peace for their two nations. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Of course,” Nicolò said with humble understanding. “Then it is done.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>He stood. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“The moment I am king, my first order of business will be to free all of the Mahdian servants from the palace.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>“If you were to do that,” Yusuf started, standing slowly, his hope growing more apparent, “I am certain our countries would come to a peace.”  <br/>
<br/>
<span>Certain, of course, because they would both one day be king. The peace they wanted would be in their hands alone. It was a promising thought. An alliance, it was not the bond with Nicolò he would wish for, but it was certainly better than enemies, and certainly better than master and servant. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Well…” Nicolò nodded with a smile, knowing there could be no other way forward now. It was a bittersweet notion, but only for himself he surmised. “You must promise me one thing.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf waited quietly. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“That you will see Cap Afrique,” Nicolò urged. “That you will stand at its edge and revel in its beauty.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf smiled poignantly. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“If things were different…” Nicolò lamented, taking a tentative step toward him, “I would take you there myself.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>The smile faded from Yusuf’s lips. It was replaced with an identical yearning, which could be read too in Lord Nicolò's eyes. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“...Nicolò.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>They stood quietly for a long moment. Yusuf held his tongue for fear of spilling his heart all over the floor. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I can’t tell you how it sends my heart soaring to hear you speak my name,” Nicolò finally admitted quietly. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Then I shall be careful not to speak it again, my lord,” Yusuf answered in little more than a whisper. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Yusuf,” Nicolò pleaded… taking another step closer so that they were barely a breath away from one another. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Nicolò.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò dared the lightest touch of Yusuf’s beard, resting against his jaw. Yusuf’s hand met Nicolò’s, and they remained that way, as if carved in marble, for a long and trepid moment in time. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“My lord,” a voice called with a quick knock on the door to his chamber. A fraction of a second later, Nuri was bursting through the door expeditiously. She stopped suddenly at the sight of the two men who were hastily making distance between themselves. Yusuf turned quickly away from her to look out the window.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Forgive me, my lord,” she said fearfully. “From the Baron.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>She handed Nicolò another written message. Nicolò glanced at it briefly before speaking aloud with much more authority than he had been wielding moments earlier. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Thank you Nuri.” He spoke next to no one in particular, but rather to clear the air of the awkwardness that lingered in the room. “The king’s health has taken a turn for the worse. My father wishes to convene counsel before dinner.” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf turned back to him. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I must change out of this coat,” Nicolò said.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I must return to the king,” Yusuf stated in reply. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Yes, of course,” Lord Nicolò responded with a nod. “Thank you for your assistance, you may both go.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf and Nuri bowed to the man before exiting his chamber together. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Please be careful, Your Highness,” Nuri beseeched him quietly once they were alone in the corridor.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Certainly, Nuri,” Yusuf said with a charming smile before proceeding with purpose along the palace’s long halls.  <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“If you two were to be caught…” Nuri said, quickening her pace to keep up with him. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf stopped and paused. He turned to look at her squarely, addressing her with calm assurance. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“You are worried about nothing, dear lady.” Yusuf insisted. But Nuri only gazed back at him with a knowing eye. Yusuf stepped back a step, and sighed. “You will not say anything to the princess?”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“No, my prince.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Yusuf,” he reminded her urgently.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Yusuf…” she nodded. “I want to see them married more than anything.  Lord Nicolò… well, he is not perfect, but he tries to be kind. The Baron…”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“The Baron has his sights on marrying the princess?” Yusuf asked her, thoughtfully. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“It seems lately, yes.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf considered what this meant. She was right. Lord Nicolò must marry Princess Amara, and that was apparent now more than ever. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>He could not entertain these ridiculous flights of fancy any longer. That he and Lord Nicolò could somehow be together. He’d thought maybe, in another life, they could have run away together. That they could both abandon their obligations to their countries.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>But they were not in another life. They were in this life, and this life was all they had.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Their only path forward from master and servant would be to both become king. To rule as allies, a thousand kilometers apart. To never again see one another, but to know that their bond sparked a lasting peace. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>That would have to be enough. Of course it would be enough.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>...It would never be enough.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“The princess and Lord Nicolò will marry,” Yusuf affirmed to her with a renewed resolve. “I assure you. And after that…”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>He caught himself. He would not make promises that he himself could not see through. It was not that he did not trust Nicolò, but he understood too well how much can go wrong in an instant, and how easily the best laid plans can falter. He would do his best to see to it that Nicolò was crowned king and that he kept his promise to set all the Mahdian servants free. If not, what kind of king could Yusuf call himself?</span><br/>
<br/>
<span>“Do not fear, Nuri, your prince has got your back.”</span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As it had been becoming increasingly more so the previous few days, dinner that evening was a solemn affair. In the king’s absence, without his pallid face, and his meek, hoarse voice, it might have been expected that things would liven up in the banquet hall. But the emptiness of his chair allowed a ghost into the room, the ghost of a man who still called all the shots because he had not yet left this earth, but who could call no shots in his state. Everyone he was about to leave behind could not yet carry on without him; it was as if time was standing still and everyone was holding their breath. Just waiting.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Everyone, that is, except for Baron di Genova, who was happy to take on the role of leadership in the king’s incapacitation. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You will be pleased to learn, Princess,” he announced jovially, “that the admiral has sent positive word of the battle today. He returns this evening with news of a great victory for us. God willing your father will be well enough to hear it.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Lord </span>
  <span>Nicolò lifted his head from his soup bowl, across the table Yusuf was watching the Baron with interest as he lay a bowl of soup in front of one of the ladies of court. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Was there indication of what the news would be, Father?” </span>
  <span>Nicolò asked for the benefit of Yusuf’s curiosity and for his own. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“There was,” the Baron answered slyly. “But... I do not wish to </span>
  <em>
    <span>spoil </span>
  </em>
  <span>the surprise.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Lord </span>
  <span>Nicolò shifted his eyes to Yusuf’s, finding them already meeting his own. In the small fraction of a moment, they communicated not just concern but a reminder to one another of their encounter that afternoon. </span>
  <span>No, it had not been a daydream. Something had sparked between them and it could no longer be ignored. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“And in the meantime,” the princess had spoken up, “let us focus on happier things while we dine, please, Baron.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>She put on a smile that conveyed both rallying cheerfulness for the benefit of the entire room, and also a commanding finality meant just for the Baron. At her table, war would no longer be a suitable topic for discussion. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Taken aback at this, </span>
  <span>Nicolò felt his lips quirk into a small smile. He chanced another glance at Yusuf, who was also beaming at the princess’s comment. </span>
  <span>He almost looked proud. </span>
  <span>Nicolò felt the same.</span>
  <span> Their eyes met again briefly, this time merely to share their joy. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Of course, Princess,” the Baron muttered, disgruntled. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Princess Amara began to chat with two of the ladies nearest her about what she knew of Tisanes and various facets of north African culture that fascinated her. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò watched her while she spoke, his mind turning with the implications of such a powerful assertion from the girl he thought he’d known. The girl he worried could not handle the throne without him by her side. Maybe she could...<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>A hand reached across him for his empty soup bowl and brushed against his own momentarily.  </span>
  <span>Nicolò lifted his bowl gently, handing it to the man clearing his place. Yusuf’s eyes were dangerously close to his own. He did not look directly at them at first, choosing to focus on the details of the curls in his beard, which somehow failed to hide the dimples in his cheeks. The  trail of light brown specks on his nose. And then there they were. Infinite pools of deep umber piercing his soul. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>The moment was over faster than it began. Yusuf moved swiftly and inconspicuously to the next diner beside Nicolò, who lifted his wine goblet to his lips as nonchalantly as his body would allow. Across the table, the Baron was eying him keenly. Much more keenly than Nicolò noticed his father at the moment, or anyone else for that matter, anyone else but the Mahdian man.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Yusuf took the outdoor route through the courtyard to his quarters. It was late, but he stopped at the fountain briefly anyway, stepping out of his sandals and cooling his tired feet in the shallow water. He wiggled his toes for a few moments and tilted his head to each side to stretch the muscles in his neck. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>A pair of eyes watched him from the shadows near the servant’s quarters, and although he had his back to the man, Yusuf knew he was there. He did not call out. Calmly, he turned on the edge of the fountain and redonned his shoes while simultaneously rising to his feet. He waited patiently, for the man to reveal himself, though… he knew who it was.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò stepped out of the shadows into the pale light of the half moon. Yusuf stood only a few paces away from him. Neither man spoke. Whatever either man was feeling didn’t need to be said. It was one and the same. Nicolò took one more step forward before Yusuf closed the distance between them in two swift strides. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Fingers ran through strands and tendrils of hair. Hands pressed against curves of lower backs, sliding to waists, to hips, to abs, to derrieres. Mouths explored one another, tongues danced wildly. Midsections bumped and manhoods came to life. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò pulled himself away abruptly, leaving Yusuf grasping for the air between them, with his hands, and his mouth. He’d been turned around in the shuffle, and backed up against the wall of the palace. Nicolò steadied himself with a deep heave of sigh. Yusuf’s hungry eyes stared back at him in desperation, and Nicolò nodded in assurance. </span><em><span>Me too, my love.</span></em><span><br/>
<br/>
</span>He walked backwards toward the stables, a tantalizing smirk dancing on his lips. In a moment he disappeared through the large wooden doors, and Yusuf followed close behind him. The open courtyard was certainly no place to carry on, where any watchful eyes might discover them.<br/>
<br/>
<span>As it was, two pairs of eyes had already spied them in those few brief seconds. Directly across the courtyard, Nicolò’s father stood near the entrance of the grand hall. This would have been problematic, in that his ambition could never keep this a secret from the princess. But that didn’t matter at this point, since the other pair of eyes belonged to the woman herself, watching from her bedroom window above. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>An indefinite amount of time later, unaware that their secret rendezvous was not, in fact, secret, Yusuf and </span><span>Nicolò lay together against a bundle of hay in the corner of a vacant stable. Nicolò rested against Yusuf’s bare chest, their fingers entwined together. They both remained quiet for a long while. There was an overwhelming feeling of contentment between them, but it was curtailed to an extent by all that awaited them outside those large wooden doors. For the moment, though, <em>just a moment</em>, the world outside could wait. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò’s eyes, an impossible shade of viridian, gazed at Yusuf in the light of the moon. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Yes my lord?” Yusuf asked of him.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“</span><span>Nicolò…” he insisted. </span><span> <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf paused long enough to quirk an honest smile his way.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“...Yes, my </span><span>Nicolò</span><span>?”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>He centered himself at that endearment with a deep breath. He pulled Yusuf’s hand to rest over his heart. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I would know what is on your mind,” </span><span>Nicolò requested. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Many things,” Yusuf responded, gazing warmly at their joined hands. He felt his face grew warm and his heart swelled. He been reasonably certain that for Nicolò this had not simply been about a quick toss in the hay, quite literally. He knew what it meant to both of them, what barriers they had crossed to be with each other tonight. It wasn't just about physical pleasure. He knew it in his soul. But still... hearing Nicolò ask him about his thoughts, somehow still elated him.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Will you share them?”  <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf stayed quiet for another moment before he spoke again. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“For as long as I can remember,” he began, “my whole life has been laid out in front of me. Nothing undecided. Nothing left to chance. A life I was never truly certain was meant for me.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò nodded in understanding. </span><span>He could very easily relate, but he did not say as much. He knew that Yusuf knew it. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I have often wondered whether fate… could be fallible. Or whether she existed at all.” Yusuf’s eyes gazed into the space in front of him, as if he were watching some scene only he could see. “Now I know she is real…”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>He looked at </span><span>Nicolò, who was watching him faithfully.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“And in the end she is cruel,” Yusuf concluded.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò sat up slowly and turned around so they faced each other. </span><span>“It’s cruel that we have lain together?”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf sat up a little straighter too. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“It’s cruel that I have never felt this way about anyone,” he said. “That I have never before felt this happy...nor this alive.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò couldn’t help but smile a little. He felt the same way. But he knew there was more Yusuf wanted to say. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Because it cannot last,” he finally declared. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò's smile faded. His heart deflated. He watched as the man stood up and fastened his pants. He looked around for his tunic, while Nicolò sat thoughtfully at his words.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Can it not?” He asked sincerely. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf paused to sigh before he quickly pulled his shirt on. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Don’t…” he said guardedly. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò stood too and took Yusuf by his hands to slow him down. Keep him here, in this moment for just a bit longer. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I have long wanted to run away from this palace, never more than I do now, with you,” he offered. “Just think, we could travel the world together. We could leave our warring kingdoms behind.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“And all of the people in them to suffer,” Yusuf reminded him solemnly. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Maybe not,” </span><span>Nicolò argued.</span><span> “You heard Amara tonight… she is coming into her own. Perhaps Genoa and Madhia could come to a peace by her doing.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf chanced a small smile. He had to admit to himself the thought had crossed his mind too. But it was a selfish thought, he knew. It would mean his own happiness at the expense of hers.  <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“She would be left broken hearted,” he reasoned with </span><span>Nicolò. This sobered him slightly.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“...Yes,” he agreed sadly. He stepped back. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Wounded,” Yusuf furthered, feeling colder for every inch </span><span>Nicolò moved away from him.</span><span> “Vulnerable. And you would leave her in the hands of your father?”  <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“No…” </span><span>Nicolò lamented.</span><span> “I cannot do that.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“No…” And Yusuf knew he wouldn’t. He could speak grandiose of his flights of fancy to run away all he wanted. But Yusuf knew </span><span>Nicolò would never willingly abandon his oldest friend, leaving her to the wolves. In the end, he would make the right choice. The more time he spent dreaming otherwise, the harder it would be for him. He watched now, as Nicolò took his turn to gather his clothes and redress. He stepped closer to the man once more and gently held his hand down at their sides.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“You must stay and be her king, </span><span>Nicolò,” he said.</span><span> “You have brought out the good in her.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò squinted at this proclamation. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“That was not <em>me</em>,” he insisted. It was Yusuf, he knew, who had first sparked something in the princess. It was not until he arrived that she started speaking her mind to anyone.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Would you stay?” he heard himself ask so meekly and so desperately he hated himself for it. “Would you stay with us? With me?”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>He watched as Yusuf closed his </span><span>eyes for a moment, </span><span>he guessed to hide his sorrow. Nicolò braced himself for what the man was about to say to him. He could never have been prepared for what he was about to hear. </span><span> <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Nicolò…” his voice was heavy with regret. “I am <em>Prince</em> Yusuf. First in line to be king of Mahdia.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>The words hung in the air. </span><span>Nicolò felt the ground slip away from beneath him. He was falling. He was completely unnerved. He had always suspected there was something important about Yusuf he had not known. He’d never imagined it would have been this, though in the end he thought he should have.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Yusuf had a way of seeing a man through to his core. He supposed that had probably come under many years of training from wisened advisers and a great deal of practice. He had a way of bringing out the best in someone, Nicolò had always thought by means of psychic demand. That had to be the result of being raised to be a leader. Nicolò had not been raised to be this way. He’d been raised to woo a princess and to marshall an army. He’d believed Yusuf to be better than him since he first laid eyes on him. And now he knew it to be true.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>But that did not bother him in the slightest. He felt a strange sense of comfort in having all of this confirmed to him. What pained him in learning who Yusuf really was, was the simple truth that he could not ask the man to stay with him. And he could not ask the man to run away with him. Yusuf needed to return to his home, and </span><span>Nicolò needed to remain in his. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>As if the man were reading his thoughts, Yusuf brought a gentle hand to Nicolò’s face and waited for the attention of his eyes upon his own. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I would choose to be with you,” Yusuf admitted, “but that choice is not ours to make. There is only one path for us from here... Praise God that it is as allies and not as enemies.” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò found that he could not hold the man’s gaze, for fear of his eyes drowning in regret. He turned away and bit back the sting he felt in them. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Marry the princess, Nicolò” Yusuf was imploring him. “Free my people. Send me home and… <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>He said the last words with a break in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
</span>“...Be my friend.” <br/>
<br/>
<span>Nicolò looked up through the window of the stable, into the light of the moon. Yusuf was right. Fate was cruel. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>An immense sound suddenly reverberated around them. It was the gong of a bell, a large bell informing all who could hear it that something important had happened. Something pivotal.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò turned to Yusuf who looked at him in question. He knew exactly what it meant. </span><br/>
<br/>
<span>“The king has died.” </span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I tried so hard not to quote Billy Joel at the end there. The line just sounded best that way...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span>Minutes later, </span><span>Nicolò arrived to the throne room at a slowing jog, Yusuf following close behind. Amara stood in the center of the room, surrounded by men who towered over her. Her hair was hastily tied back, and she wore a wine dressing gown, Nicolò guessed, over her bed clothes. Her eyes were red and swollen. She wore a blank expression on her face as the men around her spoke at her in hushed, but insistent tones about what needed to be done in the coming days, hours, and moments. The words seemed to drift over her, unheard.<br/>
<br/>
</span>Nicolò moved swiftly into the room, as a few of them men glanced his way. One of them, his father, spoke to him sardonically.<br/>
<br/>
“It is nice of you to join us.”<br/>
<br/>
<span>Nicolò ignored him. His thoughts were only for Amara. Even Yusuf, who kept back by the doorway, was a secondary thought to him presently. </span><span>Amara’s eyes shifted leadenly to his, but as he moved closer to her he realized her gaze passed right through him. He took her hand gently, coming to her side, but still she kept her eyes ahead. The archbishop to the palace raised his voice slightly higher than all else in the room, making adamant his assertion, conveying its utmost importance. <br/>
<br/>
</span>“We must commence with the coronation as soon as possible. Tonight even,” he insisted.<br/>
<br/>
<span>“I agree, Your Highness,” Baron di Genova weighed, stepping closer to her, staking his advisory claim.  “It is important that we move forward with your marriage as well. Wouldn’t you agree, Lord </span><span>Nicolò?</span><span>”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò blinked at him. His father quirked the slightest sneer his way, as if daring him to respond. Daring him to react. </span><em><span>You still wish to marry her, don’t you?</span></em><span><br/>
<br/>
</span>Instinct was screaming at him to look to Yusuf. The ache in his heart would be no lessened, in fact it would surely grow. And yet somehow he believed the man’s assuring and loving gaze would quell his anxieties, at least momentarily.<br/>
<br/>
He didn’t dare the glance though. Something to his father’s taunt warned him not to.<br/>
<br/>
“That can wait,” the archbishop said firmly.<br/>
<br/>
Amara finally granted her attention to someone. Her eyes shifted to the clergyman.<br/>
<br/>
“I can be crowned queen without a husband?” She asked curiously, her brow furrowed in the seriousness of the implication… as if no one had ever bothered to suggest this to her before.<br/>
<br/>
Across the room, Yusuf watched her closely, willing her to believe in herself.<br/>
<br/>
“You are the heir to the throne.” the archbishop said with gentle finality. “You and no one else. You are Queen already.”<br/>
<br/>
Nicolò exchanged a brief glance with his father. The older man looked as though he had tasted something bitter. Nicolò found that his mind could not decide on any one emotion. Amara stayed silent for a long moment. <br/>
<br/>
“And a silly ceremony won’t make it any more or less so,” Queen Amara responded, finally, the same authority she had dared to use at the banquet table earlier in the evening. “The coronation will wait until tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
<span>“And the wedding?” </span><span>Nicolò asked her quietly. </span><span> <br/>
<br/>
</span>For the first time since dinner, she looked at him directly.<br/>
<br/>
<span>“No need to rush to it,” she said in a pragmatic tone, her hardened face was barely recognizable to </span><span>Nicolò</span><span>. “It is scheduled for Friday.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>Nicolò searched for her somewhere beyond her mourning eyes. Something had happened. Something more than her father’s death. She was slipping away from him. <span>It was an all together hypocritical idea, he realized. He’d been slipping away from her for a while now. </span><em><span>Did she know? <br/>
<br/>
</span></em><span>He looked at his father again. </span><em><span>Did he know?<br/>
<br/>
</span></em>The doors to the hall burst open so quickly, Yusuf had to stumble back out of the way in order to avoid being trampled by the hord of men barriaging through. Nicolò’s and everyone else’s attention was dragged to the unexpected scene, but while everyone else was likely taking note of the man in binds with his swollen face aimed down to the floor being ushered into the room by Admiral Lombardi, Yusuf included, Nicolò could not help but notice the way Yusuf reacted to the man. His face briefly betrayed abject terror first in recognizing the man, and then in the thought of being recognized himself, as he shifted his face down and away, as well.<br/>
<br/>
“At last,” Baron di Genova exclaimed happily, stepping closer to the Admiral, his troops, and their new captive, “the good news I promised you would arrive, Your Highness.”<br/>
<br/>
Queen Amara looked at the Mahdian man curiously. Nicolò kept his eyes on his lover. Understanding, along with dread to match Yusuf's dawned on him a fraction of a second before it was confirmed by his father.<br/>
<br/>
“I’d like you to meet Ibrahim, king of Mahdia.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter ended up being very short. Originally it was going to be only the first part to a chapter, but I think the next one will end up being longer than I thought. </p><p>I'm happy people are enjoying this little au. I can't really take much credit for the plot, but I've been enjoying the exercise of putting Joe and Nicky into the story. Thanks to those of you who've taken the time to leave comments and words of encouragement. You probably realize this from your own experience, but they really help to keep me writing, and they lift my spirits so much every time!  THANK YOU!</p><p>I'm on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/daniela-bella">tumblr</a> if you want to say hi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Amara’s coronation was finished before the next morning reached its end. There was not time for a reception or any form of celebration afterward. It was right to business for the new queen, what with such a high profile prisoner chained in her dungeons. Her first act as monarch, it seemed, would be to decide the fate of the enemy king.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf, as he promised her father, stayed at the Queen’s side, ready to take to her every need. She did not express any to him. She sat at the head of her counsel table for the first time, while Admiral Lombardi recounted his tales from the battle, and Baron di Genova editorialized with what it all should mean for her ongoing military campaign. </span>
  <span>Nicolò’s eyes oscillated back and forth between his bedfellow and his betrothed, the latter of whom’s shoulder seemed to be growing ever colder by the minute. The former, his dear Yusuf, avoided Nicolò’s eyes as well. They were heavy with grief and fear, and they kept firmly planted on the queen, eager to know how she would choose to act. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“He must be executed, my Queen,” the Baron implored. “It is the only way to demonstrate your strength as a ruler.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“It is not the only way,” </span>
  <span>Nicolò argued emphatically. “There are a great many other ways to show one’s strength than through force. </span>
  <span>Force has been demonstrated for hundreds of years, and it has brought forth only more violence and death. </span>
  <span>Perhaps with a queen on the throne it is time our nation learned this.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“And what is your suggestion, Lord Nicolò?” Queen Amara asked of him, holding a hand up to Baron di Genova before he had a chance to interject. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Your majesty…” </span>
  <span>Nicolò said, looking meaningfully into her eyes, trying to appeal to the heart he knew beat inside her chest.</span>
  <span> “I believe your kindness is what will ultimately be our salvation.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>She held his gaze for a long moment, revealing little. The vile sound of chauvinistic chuckles escaped the mouths of the baron and the admiral. A shadow passed over Queen Amara’s face. She blinked. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Kindness can often be taken for granted, don’t you think, Lord </span>
  <span>Nicolò?” She asked. “And often taken advantage of?”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò eyes searched hers. There was pointed meaning behind those words. He didn’t know for sure just how knowing her implications were, but it didn’t really matter. He knew what he’d done, and he couldn’t help but feel overcome with remorse. The princess looked away from him to address the rest of the table. Nicolò chanced the briefest of glances Yusuf’s way. He looked back at him sadly. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I will make no decisions today.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>She stood, and all the men at the table were quick to follow. Wordlessly, she left the counsel room with Yusuf and Nuri close behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Nicolò had not been sleeping. He should have been. It was late, and his wedding was to take place the following morning. At least, he hadn’t heard otherwise. But he found that his whirling mind was not conducive for sleep at the present time. Pacing seemed a much more apt activity. Pacing. Perhaps a little fidgeting.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>He’d been taking a break to look out the window at the waning moon when what sounded like a gentle knock pulled his attention to his chamber door. He glanced at the clock on the wall and furrowed his brow, certain he’d imagined it.<br/>
<br/>
</span>Then came another slightly stronger knock. <br/>
<br/>
<span>“Yusuf…” He said in surprise to find the man on the other side moments later. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I am sorry to wake you,” he said.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“You didn't wake me,” Nicolò insisted. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“And I am sorry come to you with this, my Lord,” Yusuf said in a rush.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>It pained Nicolò to hear Yusuf calling him by his royal title again, but he did not correct him this time. He knew why he was keeping on guard, and in a lamentable way he was grateful for it. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“What is it?” he asked the man, sincerely.  <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I would speak with my father,” Yusuf said. His expression conveyed an exceedingly sorrowful vulnerability. “Can you help me?” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò knew why Yusuf looked so regretful. It was not a simple thing he was asking Nicolò to do. He suspected that Yusuf was feeling just as worried about the Queen’s sudden austerity, and what role they’d likely played in it. To help him sneak into the dungeons to converse with his father would only serve to further their betrayal. But Nicolò knew Yusuf would not have asked if it weren’t important. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>And in all honestly, Nicolò was realizing the plain truth that he’d do anything for Yusuf. Important or not. Betrayal or not. There was no malice toward anyone else in it. It simply was what it was. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Silently, he led Yusuf through the long corridors of the palace, down the winding stone steps into the dungeons. Yusuf was sure to keep a few steps back, even when </span><span>Nicolò would stop to allow him to catch up. He attempted this three times. Each time, he would turn to Yusuf, who would stop as well. Nicolò understood his intent, but did not agree that it was doing them any good. Those brief but lingering pauses revealed as much. They were ruined by one another, and they both knew it. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>When they reached the foot of the stairs, Yusuf sped up a little at the sight of a man sitting on the floor behind heavy iron bars, and shackled to the stone wall. He hurried to the bars and crouched in front of him.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Baba...”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>The older man lifted his heavy head and gazed at Yusuf through his bleary eyes. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“My son,” he said a surprise that seemed barely conscious. “Yusuf!"<br/>
<br/>
"Baba," Yusuf said again, a genuine smile beaming out of him.</span></p><p>
  <span>"We thought you were dead,” he remarked joyfully, growing more alert by this knowledge.  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I am not dead, Baba,” Yusuf assured him, reaching through the bars and cupping the king’s hands between his own. </span>
  <span>Nicolò stood back at the foot of the stairs, keeping watch, doing his best not to impose on the reunion. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf’s father looked him over, taking in the sight of his son in Genoan garments. Servant or not, they were palace garments. They were quite exquisite. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“No,” he said shrewdly, glancing next </span>
  <span>at the Genoan knight behind him. “No, it seems you have been well treated.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf followed his line of sight.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes Baba,” he said, turning back to him with a nod. “This is Lord </span>
  <span>Nicolò. He will soon marry the new queen and he has expressed a desire to free all the Madhians.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“All but me,” King Ibrahim suggested. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“The new queen...” Yusuf started. “She is finding her way in a world dominated by men, but...she is good. I do not think she will choose to execute you in the end.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò couldn’t help but notice that the resolve he often recognized in Yusuf’s voice seemed to be lacking when he spoke those words. He thought King Ibrahim noticed it too. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Do not worry about me, my boy,” he said, leaning back away from the bars, pulling his hands out of his son’s. “Madhia is well protected. Your brother rules in my stead.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Iksander?” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“He has been training for it these past several years,” Yusuf’s father explained. He gave his son a compassionate, but tired look. “We all knew you did not want to be king, my boy. I could not justly force it upon you knowing full well I had another son who would gladly take the charge.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf was visibly bewildered at this crucial information.  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asked quietly.   <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I did not want you to make any decisions until it was time,” the king responded through a sigh, his eyes dimming for a brief moment. He opened them back up and looked directly at his son. “If you ever were to decide that you do want the job.”  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“And if I want it now?” Yusuf prompted. Behind him, </span>
  <span>Nicolò shuffled his feet awkwardly. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I would tell you first that I know you are lying. And second…” he paused and glanced at </span>
  <span>Nicolò again,</span>
  <span> “...that it is perhaps too late.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Too late?” Yusuf rose to his feet slowly. </span>
  <span>Nicolò leaned against the wall and watched the two Mahdian men, curious too at what the older one meant.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I have never taken umbrage at what you are by nature, my boy,” Yusuf’s father explained. “But I do not know if I can forgive you for loving our country’s enemy.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf looked at </span>
  <span>Nicolò again. Nicolò looked utterly bewildered at the king’s allegation. Yusuf however, responded with no attempt to deny most of what was implied, not the least of which, Nicolò noted was the implication that Yusuf loved him.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“He is not our enemy, Baba,” he answered plainly. </span>
  <span>Nicolò blinked. “He wishes for peace. The queen does too.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“So you have made your choice then…” was the king’s woeful response.  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes baba, I have,” Yusuf began his insistence, but he was cut off by </span>
  <span>Nicolò who stepped toward the other two.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“He has chosen Mahdia,” he affirmed to the king. Yusuf turned to him, but </span>
  <span>Nicolò kept his eyes on his father.</span>
  <span> “And I have chosen peace.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“But you are not the king,” Ibrahim reminded him.  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“No,” </span>
  <span>Nicolò replied. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“And you think you can pursued your queen to free all of her palace servants and a prisoner of war?”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Days ago, he would have answered in the affirmative without question. Not necessarily because he believed Amara's heart to steer her that way, but because she could be easily steered in any way at all, by anyone, and that he would be the one to do the steering. He had completely underestimated her, in every way imaginable. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>At </span>
  <span>Nicolò’s hesitation, the king leaned back again and closed his eyes with an understanding nod. He passed into sleep in mere seconds, leaving Nicolò and Yusuf staring down at him, both feeling utterly dejected. They walked out of the dungeons as silently has they’d come in.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>As they neared the top of the stairs, Yusuf finally broke the silence, speaking to Nicolò for the first time since he’d knocked on his door. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“If my father is killed, my brother will surely wage an attack on your shores,” he explained, as if stating how one and one make two. </span>
  <span>Nicolò stopped and turned to the man. </span>
  <span>“And were I in his place, I would do the same.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò could not think of any justifiable reason why they shouldn’t. He responded, instead, with attempted reassurance.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“She will not kill him.”   <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Are you certain of that?” Yusuf challenged him. </span>
  <span>Nicolò did not respond, which was all the response Yusuf needed. </span>
  <span>“In our brief time together we have neglected to watch who is giving her counsel. But you are right; she </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>come into her own. I fear your influence may no longer matter, nor mine. You may not be able to keep your promise to me in the end. Not in the way you thought you would.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò considered Yusuf’s words for a moment. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“What are you asking of me?” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf sighed. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I cannot see my father executed,” he shook his head. “I cannot rest comfortably in this place while my people continue to be slaughtered and enslaved. I am their prince. I must do something.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Important or not. Betrayal or not. Nicolò knew he would do anything for Yusuf. It simply was what it was. </span><br/>
<br/>
<span>“And I will help you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Double chapter today! Feeling incredibly productive. Thank you readers for your likes and comments! I hope you enjoy this chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nicolò paced the docks in the cover of darkness. Above him, a thickness of cloud obscured the light of any celestial bodies, which served their purpose well. Yusuf’s father sat slumped against a corner post. Nicolò crouched beside the man, bringing a canteen to his lips.  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Here,” he said gently. The older man lifted his tired eyes to him and took a drink. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Why do you help us?” King Ibrahim asked. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò paused.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I would like to say because it’s the right thing to do,” he answered.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>"But that is not why?”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I... cannot truthfully say it’s the only reason why,” he admitted. The king looked meaningfully into Nicolò’s eyes. He felt wholly appraised and unnerved, as though the man were weighing and measuring him right then and there. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You play with fire, both of you,” Ibrahim said quietly.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“It is not a game, Your Majesty.” He offered the man another sip of water and helped him to a stand.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Let’s get you on the ship,” Nicolò said.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“This is your ship,” the king surmised.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes,” Nicolò answered, casting his eyes down. He guessed the king had recognized this vessel out in his waters many times before. It would return to the shores of Mahdia one last time, with the mission of righting a few wrongs, and remain there ever after. He helped the king find a secure and comfortable seat on the ship before his attention was alerted to the sound of footsteps approaching. He turned to see Yusuf approaching them, shepherding over two dozen other palace servants along with him to the docks. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>"Were you seen?” Nicolò asked anxiously, stepping off the boat and onto the dock.  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I do not believe so,” Yusuf answered, his attention shifting quickly among the Mahdians on the dock. “We must get them onto the ship quickly. Where is my father?”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Already onboard.” Nicolò told Yusuf. “Along with a three day supply of food and provisions for roughly twenty. You may need to ration a bit. And once you are safely at sea, he should eat as soon as possible.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf nodded. Nicolò pulled a dagger from the strap across his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just in case,” he said, handing it to Yusuf, who’s hand brushed against his own for slightly longer than necessary as he took the blade from him. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I can’t thank you enough,” Yusuf said, so genuinely Nicolò couldn’t bear it. He shook his head.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Do not thank me, Yusuf.” He turned away ruefully, and began ushering the others onto the ship. Yusuf watched him sadly for a stolen moment before doing the same. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>As the final few climbed aboard, Nicolò fingered the pommel of his sword and walked to the base of the dock, searching the darkness, listening for any signs of trouble. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf was approaching him again when he stepped back toward the vessel. He looked apprehensive. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“That’s everyone,” he reported. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Good,” Nicolò nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. “You should not delay.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf could feel his heart in his throat. His voice had gone dry. What could he possibly say in just the few moments they had left? <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Nicolò, I…”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò nodded to Yusuf. He was wondering the exact same thing. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Really, Yusuf… you must not linger.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf stepped closer to the man, resolve building in his expression.  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“All of Mahdia will know of your kindness,” he promised the man. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò swallowed hard, shaking his head regretfully. He did not want to be known for his part in their escape. It would have never been needed if it weren’t for him to begin with. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Just as long as you won’t forget me…” he begged quietly. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Never,” Yusuf answered him, shaking his head as well. He stepped forward once more, closing the distance between them. His hand met the back of Nicolò’s head and he pulled the man against him in a full embrace, their mouths meeting in a deep, passionate kiss.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>There had been many adversarial forces against them from the beginning. Presently, none was more a worthy opponent than time. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>But even time seemed to bow before them for just a few moments, triumphed over briefly by the beauty of their love. The seconds passed. But as far as Yusuf and Nicolò knew, it could have been centuries. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Go, Yusuf,” Nicolò urged finally as he pulled himself away from the man with every fiber of resolve he had. “Now.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò turned his head back to the darkness. This time he was certain he could hear someone approaching. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Now!” he repeated more firmly. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf hopped over the gunwale of the ship and began to assist a few of the other men in casting off. Nicolò drew his sword and walked to the base of the dock. Baron di Genova emerged from the shadows, flanked by a small platoon of palace guardsmen, Admiral Lombardi, and the Queen. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Nicolò!” He heard a troubled shout calling from behind him. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yusuf just go,” he answered calmly, keeping his eyes ahead. “Hello, father…”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Father?” The older man answered curiously. “You are no son of mine. Never in all my life would I have expected this from you Nicolò. I am quite sorry for the queen to see it. But best she finds out now before she made the mistake of marrying a traitor.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò couldn’t look at the queen. He was resolved to keep his eyes on his father, until he became aware suddenly of another man standing beside him. Nicolò’s dagger was at the ready in his hands. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I told you to go,” he griped, frowning at Yusuf in aggravation. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Lucky for you, I do not answer to you any longer, my Lord,” came Yusuf’s defiant response. He winked at Nicolò, with an accompanying twitch of his lips. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>He stole a brief glance behind him, where his father watched him regretfully from the stern of Nicolò’s ship, drifting farther and farther out to sea. He’d been right. Yusuf </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>made his choice. He was abandoning his country to be with the man he loved. But Yusuf knew he was not forsaking it to its certain ruin. Between his father and his brother, Mahdia would be in the most capable hands he knew, for years to come. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò was overcome with an all consuming sense of guilt. Guilt that he’d actually helped to rob Mahdia of its prince, King Ibrahim of his son, Amara of her budding royal dignity. <br/>
</span>

  <span>“Amara,” he spoke grievously, looking finally into her hollowed blue eyes. <br/>
</span>

  <span>“You address your queen properly,” Nicolò’s father spat, “as Your Majesty. You are lucky she has not ordered your execution here and now. We are both aware how your selfish perversion has evolved into treason. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep </span>
  </em>
  <span>your betrayal has gone.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“And I am aware of yours as well, Baron,” Queen Amara spoke firmly, in a booming voice </span>
  <span>Nicolò could scarcely recognize. </span>
  <span> <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“My queen?” Baron di Genova said in an entreating tone.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I know that it was you who was slowly poisoning my father,” she explained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All eyes were now on the Baron, who looked utterly horrified </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“You have killed a king, Baron," the Queen formally accused. "What do you have to say to that? Which betrayal ought to bring down the stronger punishment?”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Your Majesty,” he begged. “I assure you, you are mistaken."<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“I assure you I am not,” the queen replied. Her eyes bore into the older man’s like daggers. “I have several witnesses. Including Admiral Lombardi.” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>The Baron shifted his eyes momentarily to the admiral, who nodded in affirmation. Di Genova had nothing to say to that. Or at least nothing he could think of in that moment he reasoned would save him in the end. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Seize him.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Five guards lunged toward the Baron, who drew his blade quickly and crossed swords with the first to reach him. The fight was not fairly matched, and it was incredibly short lived. It had been a suicide attack, and it was effective. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò watched as his father fell to the ground, but he discovered there was no regret left in his heart to spare for the man. </span><span>He looked at Yusuf, who gave him a sympathetic and loving gaze. He turned next to Queen Amara, whose face remained as fixed and stony as ever.<br/>
<br/>
</span>“Your Majesty,” he said quietly. <br/>
<br/>
<span>He dropped his blade. Yusuf did the same, and then he took Nicolò by the hand. Nicolò felt as though his heart had shattered. This was the truth she was due. This was the truth she did not deserve. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Forgive me,” he said with genuine sorrow. The queen’s eyes darted back and forth between the two lovers. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Arrest them,” she said quietly. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò felt his hand wrenched away from Yusuf’s and pulled behind his back. His two hands were bound together, and he was forced to his knees, as was Yusuf beside him.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Queen Amara stepped closer to them, so close they were forced to look up dramatically in order to meet her eyes. But they both did. They owed her that much. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>She cast a brief glance at the dead man on the ground, before she spoke to them directly. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“A betrayer meets a deadly end,” she pondered. “It is rather fitting. Don’t you think?” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“It is my queen,” </span><span>Nicolò agreed strongly.</span><span> “And it is an end that </span><em><span>I</span></em><span> deserve."<br/>
<br/>
She held his gaze, but remained quiet.<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>"...But I beg you, spare Yusuf.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“Spare Yusuf?” Her voice had grown in volume and cadence from when last she spoke. “Spare the man who has bewitched the heart of the man I loved, and conspired with him to undermine my rule?” <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>Nicolò did not respond. </span><span>Yusuf frowned sadly at the queen. He felt no misgivings </span><span>about what must surely be going through her mind. Of the decision they’d forced upon her. <br/>
<br/>
</span><span>“My kingdom should expect nothing less than swift and firm justice from a queen who will protect them from such treachery. From a queen who answers to no one but herself.”<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>In her eyes, </span><span>Nicolò could finally see their surrender to the sting of her tears. </span><br/>
<br/>
<span>“Lock them in the dungeons,” she spoke to the guards who dragged them both to their feet. The queen turned on her heels to begin her trek back to the palace. “At the light of dawn, they shall be put to death for their crimes.” </span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter Eleven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There'd be no ties of time and space to bind us<br/>And no horizon we could not pursue<br/>We'd leave the world's misfortunes far behind us<br/>And I would put my faith and trust in you</p><p>-Enchantment Passing Through, Aida</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Nicolò…” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf searched the darkness of the cell. They’d been shackled to opposite walls, much too far apart to make any physical contact. At least, Yusuf had thought briefly, he could still see the man. That he could still spend the last moments of their lives gazing at him. If he could not touch him, at least he had that. That was until the guards that shackled them had extinguished the torches in the cell. There was no gazing at him after that. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Nicolò, speak to me... please.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>He was quiet for a bit longer before his dejected voice emerged from the darkness. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“What can I possibly say to you, Yusuf? I have brought you to your doom.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Doom may have found us in the end,” Yusuf agreed. “But it was not your doing, Nicolò. You have brought my life only beauty, only joy and meaning.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Do you have no regrets?” Nicolò asked, a strange desperation in his voice. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Of course I have regrets,” Yusuf answered honestly. He sighed resignedly. </span>
  <span>Nicolò imagined he could almost feel the man’s breath upon him. </span>
  <span>“I regret the people who’ve been hurt along the way. I regret the ones we leave behind to grieve.”  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes…” </span>
  <span>Nicolò agreed. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>He knew that for him there was only one. And in the end, she would not take her broken heart out on her people. In the end, she was much stronger than he ever gave her credit for. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>He looked up to the window facing the east. The sky was beginning to brighten. It would be dawn soon.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Across the room, he could just barely make out the silhouette of the man he loved.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I do not regret my love for you,” Yusuf said, his voice issuing a calming influence over him. </span>
  <span>“I did not regret it </span>
  <span>when it meant my heart would shatter to leave you. I do not regret it now that it will mean my end. You have shown me love, </span>
  <span>Nicolò</span>
  <span>. And you have shown me goodness. I cannot regret any moment I have spent with you. I would not have you regret it either.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Outside, the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon. Nicolò could start to see the details of Yusuf’s beautiful face, which smiled peacefully at him, and his heart began to warm. Despite the circumstances, he could not help but return the expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I do not regret that either, Yusuf."<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You spoke once of another life,” Yusuf said, glancing briefly out the window. “Do you remember?”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò watched him and patiently waited for Yusuf’s gaze to return to him. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I think about that a lot,” he continued.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes?” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf nodded.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“A life where we could be free to be together. One where our love would not cause any heartache. When it would not mean betrayal.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò blinked. His heart ached. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Perhaps after today…” Yusuf shrugged, finally turning back to him, “we may yet get to have that life.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“We could travel the world together,” </span>
  <span>Nicolò agreed. Yusuf smiled true. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You could show me all the beautiful places you’ve seen.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Just the two of us…”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Free of the wars that held us back,” Yusuf added. “Free of the palace obligations that tied us down.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò smiled, but there was a sadness behind it. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Nothing between us but love,” he suggested. Yusuf’s chest rose and fell in a great lamenting sigh. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I will meet you in that life,” </span>
  <span>Nicolò promised.</span>
  <span> “Even if it takes a thousand years. I will find you again.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf opened his mouth to speak, but he was stifled by the sound of steps coming down the stone stairway. Two armed guards arrived with the Queen at their heels. She stopped at the doorway of the dungeons while the guards separated their chains from the walls. Their hands remained shackled in front of them. </span>
  <span>Nicolò kept his eyes on the Queen as he was brought to his feet. She carried the same hardened and vacant expression she’d been practicing the night before. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Did you ever love me at all?” she demanded of him, quietly after a tense moment of quiet. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò blinked and frowned sadly at her.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“All my life,” he answered genuinely. “But not in the way you deserve.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“No…” the Queen replied. She glanced at Yusuf and then looked again at </span>
  <span>Nicolò.</span>
  <span> “Not everyone is as lucky to find the kind of love you have found in each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never wanted to hurt you,” </span>
  <span>Nicolò offered gently. Yusuf shifted his eyes toward him momentarily, but returned them promptly back to the Queen. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I know, my love,” she said, her voice softening slightly as she stepped closer to them both. “And I do not want to hurt <em>you</em>. Either of you.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf surmised there was more to what she would say, but the queen spoke no more. The moment hung suspended in the air, to the point that he and </span>
  <span>Nicolò both began to tense. Behind them, however, the guards’ hold on them began to ease slightly, and Yusuf could sense them collapsing slowly to the ground behind them, until they were merely two piles of armor and limbs at their feet. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>They looked to the queen, completely bewildered. She cocked a guileful brow. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Tisanes…”  <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò could hardly process what had just happened before she was reaching out to him and unlocking the shackles on his wrists. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You have escaped,” she explained adamantly. “You’ve subdued my guards and disappeared into the night together. You are not to set foot in this kingdom <em>ever again</em>, Do you understand me?” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Amara…” </span>
  <span>Nicolò started as she moved to Yusuf’s shackles. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You must tell me you understand,” she paused to bore her eyes on </span>
  <span>Nicolò. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“...I understand.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf watched the queen seriously as she worked to remove his binds.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Mahdia?” he asked quietly. She looked up at him and nodded.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Will know only peace from Genoa,” she promised. “So long as…” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf made the connection himself. He was finally free from his captivity in Genoa. But he could never go home.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“So long as no traitor sits on the throne,” he finished for her. He looked to </span>
  <span>Nicolò. They were about to leave so much behind and yet… they would be free to make whatever life they wanted. Just as they imagined together. It was a bittersweet notion. Just as it was for Nicolò. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>The queen looked at Nicolò</span>
  <span>, and then back at Yusuf, shaking her head in understanding. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You are only traitors to the designs that were thrust upon you without your consent,” she gave them an empathetic smile. She was no stranger to this. “I would follow your example, but… well it turns out I’m rather good at this.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò was frowning at her. He had never felt so torn in his entire life. Even though, once again, there was only one path to be taken. It was the best path he could dream of and still...<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Today was to be our wedding day,” he lamented. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes, well…” Queen Amara sighed, “perhaps today can still be about love.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>She put a hand to his heart and took Yusuf by the hand with her other. She slid her hand down </span>
  <span>Nicolò’s arm and joined the two lovers’ hands together. </span>
  <span> <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I am so sorry, Amara,” </span>
  <span>Nicolò said. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>She smiled wistfully at him. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You and I…” she said, shaking her head, “we never really bothered to get to know one another. Not for who we truly are. Perhaps if we had <em>this</em> would not have felt so devastating.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>She gathered in a deep breath and let it out slowly, and calmly. She looked to </span>
  <span>Nicolò for a long moment as her smile slowly faded. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Or perhaps it would have been worse, I don’t know.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò reached for her and wrapped her arms around her. He held her close to his chest and when a conventional amount of time had passed and he sensed her trying to pull away, he increased his hold just slightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was telling her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need another moment</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She did not fight it; she needed it too. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>She finally managed to pull herself away, and looked next to Yusuf, imploring him to bring reason to the scene. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Go,” she begged. “You have about an hour before I must send out a search for you. If they catch you, then I will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very angry</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you.” <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“My ship is gone,” </span>
  <span>Nicolò remembered. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Your father’s is not,” she reminded him. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Nicolò hugged her once more, a quick one this time, but long enough for Amara to make eye contact with Yusuf over his shoulder. He nodded. He knew what she requested of him. He would keep that promise until the day he died. She embraced him briefly as well, because she knew he would. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Know this,” she spoke to them, as they reached the foot of the stairs. They stopped and turned to her one last time. “</span>
  <span>Your love has inspired a reign of peace.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>In the dim light of the morning, Yusuf and </span>
  <span>Nicolò worked as quickly as they could to cast off his father’s navy vessel. It was a great deal of effort for only two men, but not beyond what they could do. They would come to find over the coming days, weeks, and years, that there was very little they could not do, if they did it together.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>The sail was raised. The wind had taken hold. Nicolò stepped beside Yusuf on the bow and took his hand. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Where to?” He asked with a grin. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>Yusuf smiled back at him. Nicolò looked ten years younger, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Yusuf could not help but feel the same way. Their story was completely unwritten. He looked out at the water, considering Nicolò's question for a moment. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Wherever the wind will take us,” he responded.</span><br/>
<br/>

  <span>In the end, it didn’t matter where they ended up, as long as they ended up together. Yusuf was happy to put their lives back in the hands of fate. It seemed that she was not cruel after all. It seemed she had been on their side all along. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was avoiding responding to the comments on the last chapter, because I'm really not great at keeping spoilers to myself. Obviously, the ending of this fic is a pretty steep departure from the ending of Aida. As heartwrenching as it is, I love the way Aida ends. Even though it's heartbreaking, there's a hopefulness to it, and I think it's just beautiful. That being said, we're talking about Joe and Nicky here. I have yet to come across anyone who's really comfortable with the idea of their permanent demise... even if it could have meant them finding each other in another life. Maybe another writer could have (would have) done it. I just couldn't. </p><p>Could I have had them put to death to then discover their immortality? Sure. But... in the end I just wanted to tell this contained story. And it was a nice little exercise to imagine what might have happened in the original tale if Amneris was not so forced by the politics of her time to show her strength through punishment. I can appreciate a tragic ending. But I like to write the happy ones. :)</p><p>Thanks to all the fans of this story. It meant a lot to me that you all appreciated the idea. I struggled with it from time to time. Putting Joe and Nicky in other characters stories was harder than I anticipated and sometimes it was challenging to keep them true to their real selves. I am realizing I definitely prefer writing them as I know them... but this was still fun to do. </p><p>(I have another au idea circling around in my brain, but it’s one that would stay much more close to universe they exist in now. There’s a lot of moving parts though so it will take an extensive amount of planning to do it right and to do it well. Stay tuned... I hope someday you’ll come back to my imagination with me.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>